You brought in that song, with one of your Höfners already around your neck and you showed it to me, you just keep shoving songs like that in face and you pretend you don’t see that I never struggle.
Baby, I become immune.
You started strumming, you always experiment.
Once you mumbled that you’d wait me to make the first move, but I never do
And you just flirt with the idea that once on a busy street, I’ll grab you and smile.
But the point is, you see me, with that black hair I had and not the mess I have which I brush a bit and how I wonder if my hair should be blonde and I shop with Kate for her to tell me what are heels and what are not.
You point the fact that you’re married as if it’s a sexuality, some pride, when there is none, she reads magazines as you lay on the bed, you with the remote or the other way round and maybe it is love and maybe you’re married.
But I’m the one you struggle so much over.
Point is you still don’t see me confessing on that street.
You just see me with long black hair and the fringe covering my face.
And baby, it pisses you off.
Baby, you just make me mad.
I had a bit of a struggle here, as I wrote the married part in the end and then just shifted it to it's currently place:)
I hope you enjoyed it and Pale Blue Eyes is a wonderful cover and I hope I captured Alison's feelings about it.
Thank you and feel free to request.
A Year Accurate