Richard Thompson Oh I Swear
Oh, I swear and I swear and I swear
But my heart’s not in it
I can deadpan as dead as I can
But my heart’s not in it
What little of yours, what little of mine
And we’ll get by
Like jailbirds locked in a cell
We go well together
Like a marriage arranged in hell
We go well together
Cruel poverty is the tie that binds
And we’ll get by
Can’t run in a dead end street
Can’t run in a dead end street
No wings upon your feet
All your dreams are shackled to the ground
Can’t run in a dead end street
Can’t run in a dead end street
No wings upon your feet
And all your dreams are shackled to the ground
And it couldn’t be love
And it couldn’t be love
Oh it couldn’t be love
Oh it couldn’t be love
What little of yours, what little of mine
And we’ll get by
