Bulimic Beats - Catatonia

I thought we’d escape

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 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

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 his wall 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’m familiar with every brand

Here I am

A front line with labels where I witness custards last stand

Here I am