Sweetheart Surgery Seven Days A Week
Sing to me the song that I won't hear tomorrow on the
radio
Burn these wings of sorrow I will hold your tight
please don't be sad no more
Close your eyes and tell me do you want to travel to
the moon and back
Through the dark dark night Oh let me kiss your let me
kiss your neck
One two three four times
The horizon seems to us closer
And our names are well known to all the
City streetlights
Wo-oh
Morning comes but it doesn't matter
Hold my hand you feel much better
Than those nights
Wo-oh wo-oh
La-la-la
La-la-la-la-la
Three martinis whisky-cola and a gin
Just remember where you've been
Seven days a week she waits just for a chance to quit
this game
Where all the same
Don't you want a cup of pleasure Drink it slowly fo-oh-
hours
Do you like the way the rumors creeps between the
friends of ours
Tear and crumple all this rubish revelations in your
notes
Let me have a big big role in a frosty sad october
episodes
Of your discrepant lonely life
