I packed a fishing line and counted on it
I thought we''d escape
I packed a fishing line and counted on it

But dreaming is for moonrise
And moonlight also ails those tired eyes

I treat him like a lady
I treat him as I would he unto me
Give Rose rose-seller a run for her money
With silicone and poetry
But it''s the end of me

I thought it could change
I''d wake up one morning and find nothing to rearrange
I couldn''t get there Behind walls of Sunday papers
I thought it could change
I''d wake up one morning and find nothing to rearrange

But dreaming is for moonrise
And moonlight ails these tired eyes

I treat him like a lady
I treat him as I would he unto me
Give Rose rose-seller a run for her money
With silicone and poetry
And it''s the end of me

Here I am
Here I am
And here I stand
Here in my kitchen where I familiar with every brand
Here I am
A front line with labels where I witness custard''s last stand
Here I am