Get On With It — текст песни (Letters To Cleo)

The Sunday Paper is a mess and I`m not gonna pick it up you are if I could
just get on with it. It don`t matter my hair`s a mess cause you`re not gonna
fix it up for me, I am if I could just get on with it, I would take a breath
outside myself a stranger place I couldn`t find and no one knows who I am
and you can`t say my name. Can`t think of anything else worse `cause if I
didn`t fuck it up you would why can`t you just do something right. Just
once change my mind cause if you can I`d be the one you know I am but
you`re so blind, you always were I didn`t catch your name. I would take a
breath outside myself a stranger place I couldn`t find and no one knows
who I am and you can`t say my name