4 acessos
Your things do not belong here
They now look out of place
Just like a crooked painting
Your face would not stay straight
We've got to get out while we can
Our peace we will forever hold
One more night without a blanket
Someone's bound to catch a cold
Just like the devil's disguise
So are the days of our lives
But before you leave I have
Confession to make
It was only to impress your parents
All those nights I washed the plates
Scratched on an actor's textbook:
"There are some things you just can't fake"
Now I've got dishpan hands
Now the show is finally over
There's something I must stress
There'll be no more revivals
My love I repossess
We missed our curtain call
There's nothing left to say at all
Except lights, camera, action