The spaces between all the towns,
Is where I lay my sweetheart down.
The spaces between her cruellest insults is where I stopped being faithful,
The gaps between Fat Kelly's Teeth,
Distract my eyes from her body,
And as she pulls me to the floor,
I don't feel that guilty,
My trousers are below my knees,
And her skirts above her waist.
But in the cold sober light she's not nearly so pretty,
But if I drink more gin her grace might return.
My sweetheart don't know,
And I sure won't tell her that fat Kelly's teeth have bitten chunks out of me,
And what was I thinking of when I went home with her,
She had sympathy, she had cigarettes,
Now they've all disappeared,
Between her teeth, between her teeth.
And I always forget, how quick the rot sets,
And now that the sun sets, I must go home,
I don't feel regretful, I don't feel ungrateful,
Even though I'm unfaithful I don't feel that bad.
