The Common Touch - Parenthetical Girls

I came out of my mother

Renowned for compounding numbers

Came out of my mother

With a head blessed with figures

And with yours now above me

Both long and unlovely

I think we can safely say

Such sums become me

A tryst as disingenuous as this

You know what I am

So let’s not pretend

You’re short on grace

But you’ve an empty space

But I fit just right

Yes I fill just right

Right, right

I came out of my mother

As pure as power

You’re delicious and desperate

And God knows where your dress went

Still smug and smart, well bless your precious heart

Will I stay the night

Might I stay the night

Forgive me if i respectfully decline

Cause theres just no time

And I’ve got my pride

While wealth and waste may breed expensive taste

It’s true what they say

Take pleasure from the simple things you pass along the way

Should fortunes fade, f course they do recede

We feign no feinted praise

But pity not the pretty things you break along the way

There’s pleasure in the simple things you break

Take pleasure from the simple things you break