Get on with It - 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