Texty: Chris Porro. Lampreys And Gigolos. Real Gold.

I don't know what to do with these girls anymore
They have grown into women, and I'm still a boy
tumble down, to the ground, dust myself off in real gold.
And I read in a study that kids must grow old
That they all leave the nursery, get bought and get sold.
tumble down, to the ground, dust myself off in real gold.
What was it you were heard constantly saying?
You're always bored? Boring world entertain me!
tumble down, to the ground, dust yourself off in real gold.

Did you wait by the phone?
Did you phone and hang up?
Was I uniformed clueless?
Or right to give up
Guess I'll send out the cards
For our formal demise
But before I address them a favor from you?

Tell me lies

And I'm finding that time makes you seem like a saint
And I'm finding that time made some sweetness of pain
Still I tumble down, to the ground, dust myself off in real gold.
I don't know what to do with these girls anymore
They have grown into women, and I'm still a boy
tumble down, to the ground, dust myself off in real gold.
And I read in a study that kids must grow old
That they all leave the nursery, get bought and get sold.
tumble down, to the ground, dust myself off in real gold.

Now I've said my good-byes
And your riddens I've hailed
As lovers or friends
No matter we failed
With parcels in hand
The last verse no reprise
But before I stop singing a favor from you?

Tell me lies