I... I was born yesterday
And I believe all that you say
I have no choice

I must obey you
Is this the first or the second day
Of the rest of my life

Well hey
Why should I care either way
If what you say is true?


Saturday morning, 18th of December
I cannot remember

The last time that I saw such a young ballerina
In love with the loveless
In tune with a tuneless old upright piano

Standing en pointe
Going through each position with gentle precision
She measures each movement

Her classical features and elegant waistline
Are going to waste while she pleases her parents


What if they die on the road to Rathmines
Where a dog in two minds times his run to perfection
An orphan at last,

She'd be sick in the loo-bowl
Then go to the funeral and cry by the graveside
And then sleep with the first man she sees

And she'd catch some disease
Which she would give to her doctor
She'd cook her own breakfast, and she'd cook his as well

And both get on swell
Even though he was married


You are a part of me
I am a part of you
Why should I let you walk all over me?

All over me