A cut-out picture of a sugar tart With olive skin and a purple heart, Concrete shoes, and it's just the Start Of bigger things unseen. Heroes of our glory days Ride upon the hip-hoorays Of hometown girls who've been displayed In dirty magazines. "And what am I supposed to do with you?" Just tell me everything I've heard before Like it was news The miners strike, hold out for love We bust their heads, push and shove, By helmet light, we rise above And say, "look out below!" They're such a grim, romantic crew, Swear they won't forget but do,
It leaves them free to cry anew At every song we know. "And what am I supposed to do with you?" Just tell me everything I want to hear Like it was true Sometimes I wish that I was king And held the end of every string, The fear, the prize, the mortal sting Of what will come of this. For now I'll let all chance unwind To keep our secret hearts entwined, And if I choose to see this as a sign It surely is. "And what am I supposed to do with you?" Just tell me everything I've heard before Like it was news.