LETRA
Use A− / A+ para ajustar a leituraSweet Potato
She cooks you sweet potatoYou don't like aubergineShe knows to boil the kettleWhen you hum bars from GreaseShe senses you are lonelyBut still she can't be sureAnd so she stands and waits,Stands anticipating your thoughtsHow can she become the psychicThat she longs to be to understand youHow can she become the psychicThat she longs to be to understand youHe brushes thoroughlyHe know she likes fresh breathHe rushes to the stationHe waits atop the stepsHe's brought with him a Mars barShe will not buy NestleAnd later he'll performA love lorn serenade, a tradeHow can he become the psychicThat he longs to be to understand youHow can he become the psychicThat he longs to be to understand youSo give her informationTo help her fill the holesGive an ounce of powerSo he does not feel controlledHelp her to acknowledgeThe pain that you are inGive to him a glimpseOf that beneath your skinNow my inner dialog is heaving with detestI am a martyr and a victimAnd I need to be caressedI hate that you negate me,I'm a ghost at beck and callI'm failing and placating,I berate myself for stayingI'm a foolI'm a foolHe greets the stranger meekly,A thing that she acceptsShe sees him waiting oftenWith chocolate on the stepsHe senses she is lonely,She's glad they finally metThey take each other's handsWalk into the sunsetDo you like sweet potatoes?
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