It is seven And you put on your make-up It is eight And he's waiting 'cos you're late Quarter past And you wash the places I'll never know again Quarter past And you wash for a stranger's hands
And i am dying Sixty seconds every minute On my fingers I still taste it Yes, these hands are lonely These hands are wasted I die alone and in slo-mo Because i got what i wanted
Gone forever to a safer place than i'll Ever be, with better luck and bluer Eyes than me, to some place with Better luck and handsome hands So forever is gone Forever was wrong Forever was too long
And in the morning when i wake up I say a little prayer And in the evening when i wake up I'll say a little prayer For you...
