What Emma Said
The clock ticks on to quarter past care,
Larks don’t sing anymore,
At least not on my window sill,
…not anymore.
Seems the first half of life is for living,
The second half for looking back.
I remember when my lips used to burn every time I had sex,
…every time,
Sometimes three or four times a night,
…not anymore.
This isn’t the face I was born with,
The same as won Bradford’s bonny baby competition in ’26,
I had dimples then,
not wrinkles,
dimples,
…not anymore.
At seventeen, I had such a smashing figure,
No need for corsets or falsies me,
That’s when I had breasts worth playing with,
Not like now,
don’t have much need for them now,
neither do my lips burn,
…not anymore.
Larks don’t sing anymore,
At least not on my window sill,
…not anymore.
Seems the first half of life is for living,
The second half for looking back.
I remember when my lips used to burn every time I had sex,
…every time,
Sometimes three or four times a night,
…not anymore.
This isn’t the face I was born with,
The same as won Bradford’s bonny baby competition in ’26,
I had dimples then,
not wrinkles,
dimples,
…not anymore.
At seventeen, I had such a smashing figure,
No need for corsets or falsies me,
That’s when I had breasts worth playing with,
Not like now,
don’t have much need for them now,
neither do my lips burn,
…not anymore.