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Artiste:
Lucksmiths
Titre:
The Opposite Of Coffee
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She gets a haircut every June On a kitchen chair Last year it couldn't come too soon Now she couldn't care Her mind is otherwise occupied She sits cross-legged on the floor In an A-line skirt But she'd make a beeline for the door If it was up to her When the autumn leaves Then the winter settles in And sometimes it seems As though that overcoat's her second skin She often speaks so softly She sends me to sleep She's the opposite of coffee She's the last thing I need first thing in the morning When the autumn leaves Then the winter settles in And sometimes it seems As though that overcoat's her second skin Everything she says ends softer than it starts So few of her sentences end in exclamation marks She starts talking, I start yawning She's the last thing I need first thing in the morning