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All the cities in the world
And so very little time and
So many different girls...
All you have to do is find them.
There's a wealth of opportunity, you plan your trips accordingly.
A pity, but the pretty ones are usually more touristy.
Say, how'd you like to run away from these machines?
Everywhere the spies are printing out your dreams.
Seven stops in seven different countries,
Seven page itineraries, memories thick as Bloody Marys, Jesus, Joseph, bloody hell.
Right now we're here in Boston,
In love with downtown crossing.
New York will be there in the morning.
Come back to bed, my darling.
Four years thrown away on vows we never kept.
Forty-five minutes every day religiously devoted to regret.
Time we could have spent on medication thrown away on education,
And we planned to take a trip to Scotland but we never made it.
How'd you like to run away from these machines?
I had Julian's and Steve's.
You had Julia's and Jeanette's.
You wear your terror on your sleeve for all the men I haven't met (yet).
I had Oliver in Potsdam, you had Elanor in Amsterdam.
We're keeping track so carefully we've missed the state we're in completely.
Honestly, your foot is out the door and I've got scores of offers elsewhere and keep both feet planted firmly in the air,
And tomorrow you can totally erase me from your mind, but trust me everything is fine,
Because
Right now, we're here in Boston,
In my apartment in the south end.
Forget your year in London.
Come back to bed, my darling.
You can put the details in a letter,
The more embarrassing the better.
Right now I can be happy if I choose to.
I know that in the morning I will lose you...
And maybe you'll go mad.
And maybe I'll go gray
And pack up to Berlin,
Or maybe it won't matter anyway.
We'll find out that your mom was right and you'll admit you're really gay.
And maybe I'll wake up
In a city far away.
Or maybe we'll make up
And buy a house and have a couple kids and a Labrador and a microwave.
But anyway,
Right now we're here in Boston.
In Eden, where you almost pulled your pants down.
Don't worry who these jokes will all be lost on.
Come back to bed, my darling.
There is nothing in the world that we can count on,
Even that we will wake up is an assumption.
But I know for a fact that I loved someone,
And for a about a year he lived in Boston...
And so very little time and
So many different girls...
All you have to do is find them.
There's a wealth of opportunity, you plan your trips accordingly.
A pity, but the pretty ones are usually more touristy.
Say, how'd you like to run away from these machines?
Everywhere the spies are printing out your dreams.
Seven stops in seven different countries,
Seven page itineraries, memories thick as Bloody Marys, Jesus, Joseph, bloody hell.
Right now we're here in Boston,
In love with downtown crossing.
New York will be there in the morning.
Come back to bed, my darling.
Four years thrown away on vows we never kept.
Forty-five minutes every day religiously devoted to regret.
Time we could have spent on medication thrown away on education,
And we planned to take a trip to Scotland but we never made it.
How'd you like to run away from these machines?
I had Julian's and Steve's.
You had Julia's and Jeanette's.
You wear your terror on your sleeve for all the men I haven't met (yet).
I had Oliver in Potsdam, you had Elanor in Amsterdam.
We're keeping track so carefully we've missed the state we're in completely.
Honestly, your foot is out the door and I've got scores of offers elsewhere and keep both feet planted firmly in the air,
And tomorrow you can totally erase me from your mind, but trust me everything is fine,
Because
Right now, we're here in Boston,
In my apartment in the south end.
Forget your year in London.
Come back to bed, my darling.
You can put the details in a letter,
The more embarrassing the better.
Right now I can be happy if I choose to.
I know that in the morning I will lose you...
And maybe you'll go mad.
And maybe I'll go gray
And pack up to Berlin,
Or maybe it won't matter anyway.
We'll find out that your mom was right and you'll admit you're really gay.
And maybe I'll wake up
In a city far away.
Or maybe we'll make up
And buy a house and have a couple kids and a Labrador and a microwave.
But anyway,
Right now we're here in Boston.
In Eden, where you almost pulled your pants down.
Don't worry who these jokes will all be lost on.
Come back to bed, my darling.
There is nothing in the world that we can count on,
Even that we will wake up is an assumption.
But I know for a fact that I loved someone,
And for a about a year he lived in Boston...
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". I'm guessing that this guy has a problem with commitment and never stays in one place too long. Amanda tries to convince him to maybe settle down "or maybe we'll make up and buy a house and have a couple kids and labrador and microwave but anyway" but in the end he moves on "I know that in the morning I will lose you".
Karma policeman, I don't thinks she suspects he cheats, it sounds like they both sleep around in an open relationship and throw their conquest in each other's face.
to explain his feeling a bit more :
it's like you travel in the future and you see that your lover will be gone on this date, so you travel back in time with all the knowlege knowing that tomorow your lover will be gone forever while right now he is in your arms . pretty complex feeling.
like having someone and this persone loves you back and everything is going perfect but you know that tomoorw all that ill be gone.
it goes about describing the feeling and what is going on in her head , the doubts, the hopes, and everything that goes with it .
And I am (p r empty o and healing/inhaling)
And IMO and FTL in feeling (which means and In Memory of and for the Loss in Feeling?)
So... I haven't really helped at all :) Perhaps there will be an explanation in the song book.
don't worry who these jokes will all be lost on
come back to bed my darling"
It goes from, 'right now we're here in boston' then what sounds like 'and I am B-R-F-T-O-M- ailing'??? does anyone know?
seems to line up with my perception of their relationship, but i may just be imposing my hopes onto it. maybe when they're old and grey and without shame completely they'll write an autobiography and we'll get to know what happened- and what songs like this are about.
Wishful thinking.
I think the new version has this as "a dozen kids who'll run away but it doesn't matter anyway." I prefer the labrador I think :)
But yeah. Love is a contest, it seems.