I was looking for a rhyme for the New York TimesWhen I sensed I was not aloneShe said "do you know how to spell 'audaciously'?"I could tell I was in loveAnd so I forced a smile contrary to my styleAnd she looked into my eyesShe said "do you want to go heaven,Or would you rather not be saved?Here comes my trainI'm on my way, will you not see?I don't need your sympathyI won't read your poetry, oh sweetness pleaseSo she took me back to her basement flatWhich was down on Charlotte StreetThough it was never my intentionWe were not intense, not least because--"Well. if you must just take, then I'm a piece of cake"That is what she said to meAnd so I gave myself to her charityWell at least that's how it seemedHere comes my trainI'm on my way, what got into me?I don't need your sympathyI won't read your poetry, oh bittersweetsI was looking for a rhyme for the New York Times when I was distractedYes, those were precious times together that we wastedNow I'm working hard for my union cardI must be leaving Charlotte StreetThough it was never my intention to stay so longSo long
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Written By LLOYD COLE
Lyrics © EMI Music Publishing