Get On With It
Letters to Cleo
The Sunday Paper is a mess and
I'm not gonna pick it up you are
if I could just get on with it.
It don't matter my hair's a mess cause
you're not gonna fix it up for me,
I am
if I could just get on with it
I would take a breath
outside myself
a stranger place
I couldn't find
and no one knows who I am
and you can't say my name.
Can't think of anything else worse
cause if I didn't fuck it up
you would
why can't you just do something right.
Just once change my mind
cause if you can
I'd be the one
you know I am
but you're so blind,
you always were
I didn't catch your name.
I would take a breath
outside myself
a stranger place
I couldn't find
and no one knows who I am
and you can't say my name.