Bulimic Beats Paroles

And moonlight ails these tired eyes

I treat him like a lady
I treat him as I would he unto me
Give Rose rose-seller a run for her money
With silicone and poetry
But it's the end of me

I thought it could change
I'd wake up one morning and find nothing to rearrange
I couldn't get there
Behind his wall of Sunday papers
I thought it could change
I'd wake up one morning and find nothing to rearrange

But dreaming is for moonrise
And moonlight ails these tired eyes

I treat him like a lady
I treat him as I would he unto me Here I am
Here I am
And here I stand
Here in my kitchen where I'm familiar with every brand
Here I am
A frontline with labels where I witness custard's last stand
Here I am