Texty:
Richard Thompson You Me Us

Oh baby, she don't know what to do with herself Oh baby, she don't know what to do with herself She might wipe her tears on a rusty nail Rest her cheek

in heaven, in the firmament blue You can run to the wastelands, but it points straight at you I've got a bank vault in heaven, what joy will it bring All you

There's a dark hand, there's a dark hand There's a dark hand over my heart You call me fraud and faker You call me user, taker You say I throw you scraps

Oh you speak the words locked in my breast But it's late for me, let an old man rest One more black and tan on the barricade To keep me safe from loving

in my head for you That only your hand releases Let me steal your thunder, won't you Let me be your boy wonder, won't you Let me thrill you, will you, won't you

hair Trapped, I suppose Lied for my sake Crushed like the rose That somebody picked by mistake Oh I knew it would come I knew she would leave me for

help when I needed it, chum You saw me drowning, you said I was a fake and laughed Then you jumped right in and used me for a raft You shot me down with friendly fire You

talk her right 'round Get her size sixes back on the ground Train whistle is a lonely sound I didn't mean the things I told you Empty arms waiting to hold you

you're unburied, the likes of me will find you You're no good to worms, but you might become the finest glue We'll grind you up and spread you out as