If we ever sail away my dear I'll turn blue as the water halfway through Laughing and talking back won't do I can't pretend to make it up to you Reaching into the bag of tricks I'd rather pack a lead picnic I'll read your smile as a dare If you put me in place I've done much worse than you know And work each day to erase Don't you know I'm no good for you Stepped on by the spiky red boots Tempt me with the thrill of the fall Failing now to fetter the gall Subject to a stranglehold of precious moral gloves Saving face by burning in the candlemaker's flood