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A quick-sketch of a song, recorded soon after moving to New York.

lyrics

Well I don't love you and you don't love me
But we hang out anyway
And we make up dirty stories for the play we plan to make
And we spend all of our money on the costumes we
never wear
For the beauty of the angel in the bedroom

Well I live on Manhattan island and I walk from
shore to shore
Just to find me a real-life diamond that I can't
hawk at the penny store
And I got no phone to call you when you're down
in Mexico
I'll be working on Ellis Island so the taxman will
never know

Always be, one for me
Beds lie down, chairs stand up

We all make lots of excuses while we can't stop
where we'll be
20 years from now I'll be where I have always
wanted to be
And if I'm not, I won't be sorry 'cause I'll be there anyway
In a palm tree in the desert by the side of some lonesome road

I can tell that you don't mean it
when you say you love your dad
'Cause you never ever call him
when you're tired or when you're sad
So I don't like it when you ignore me
When I'm singing you a song
I'll just sit here writing letters to the mayor
all day long

Always be, one for me
Beds lie down, chairs stand up

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James Botha Brooklyn, New York

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