All the girls on these times of disaster want a party
I'm not able to give, so I learn every night some new clapping and dancing and the compa** measure is the show
When it would be so easy to give me a cure at night
Some heat, some strength, near the dance floor
Just the softest 3 by 4 and you moving the head
No fear. No blankets. No pills. A hymn, yes
All the girls on these times of disaster want a party
I'm not able to give, so I learn every night some new clapping and dancing and the compa** measure is the show
Then it always comes the morning and it's sometimes really quiet but always full of echoes of you
The newspaper speaking noisy and the countdown of parent's wake
The shout of a life that it's silly and foul