You'll see her face, a glimpse of lace
And you'll go running through the last sweet dying day dreams
Calling her name but she's been home an hour
Laughing at the mirror and she combs her paper hair
And later in the day, you will be searching for a way
To let her know you're ready for her little game to end
'cause it's getting dark and then
You'll see her face, a glimpse of lace
And you'll go running through the last sweet dying day dreams
Calling her name but she's been home an hour
Laughing at the mirror and she combs her paper hair
