get a real job, keep the wind at your back and the sun on your face.
all the immediate unknowns are better than knowing this tired and lonely fate.
does he love you, does he love you? will he hold your tiny face in his hands?
i guess it’s spring; i didn’t know; it’s always seventy-five with no melting snow.
a married man, he visits me. i recieve his letters in the mail twice a week.
i think he loves me and when he leaves her,he’s coming out to california!
i guess it all worked out; there’s a ring on your finger and the baby’s due out.
you share a place by the park and run a shop for antiques downtown.
and he loves you, yeah he loves you, and the two of you will soon become three.
and he loves you, even though you used to say you were flawed if you weren’t free.
let’s not forget ourselves, good friend. you and i were almost dead.
you’re better off for leaving, you’re better off for leaving.
late at night, i get the phone. you’re at the shop sobbing all alone.
your confession, it’s coming out.
you only married him because you felt your time was running out.
now you love him, and your baby. at last, you are complete.
but he’s distant and you found him on the phone pleading, saying
‘baby i love you and i’ll leave her and i’m coming out to california…’
let’s not forget ourselves, good friend. i am flawed if i’m not free.
your husband will never leave you, he will never leave you for me