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 also ails those 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 walls 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 familiar with every brand
Here I am
A front line with labels where I witness custard's last stand
Here I am

Copyright: Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
Writer(s): JONES, MATTHEWS, POWELL, RICHARDS, ROBERTS