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• Artiste: Philmore
• Titre: Mobile Telephones
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I hear that on a date she'll make you wait 'Cause she thinks it takes an hour to be fashionably late When sooner comes to later you will love her or you'll hate her But I can't imagine any guy would miss a chance to date her No rice, no dice, she won't think twice If she doesn't like the waiter then she won't be nice I could write myself a letter to persuade my friends I met her But I don't think they would fall for it, I think that they'd know better They woke up They spoke up They broke up on mobile telephones The game's the same but I'm afraid 'Cause I don't know all the rules and never really learned to play I thought that I'd forgot her 'til I saw her in the water Then my heart seized and my car keys went down, down, down And as she swam away my mind replayed All the witty conversation I should have made So I'll cut her picture from the front page of the Sunday paper And attach her to my wall with a staple or I'll tape her She don't give half a chance to other guys If I had half a nerve I'd probably try