That woman crying near the oven
the fireplace lights up her face
Maybe her husband is just working
or then he's with his gun in his head
just a daydream, she is so asleep
her children will never get old
he is a baker, a mechanic guy
why couldn't she leave him behind?
it's not a choice, if it's not quite kind
Bread is bread, bread is not love
I want to live, open the door
Bread isn't real meal, when you're starving
your doubts won't hurt me anymore...
He comes quiet, with his cold kiss
As he is high, doesn't notice her tears
he talks loudly 'bout beers and whores
Himself he's a baker who bakes his own
Bread is bread, bread is not love
I want to live, open the door
Bread isn't real meal, when you're starving
your doubts won't hurt me anymore...
the last hug, a breaking up
the log on fire, all is dust
blue eyed girl, a new lover
a black act eaten raw...
No comments:
Post a Comment