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Beautiful South

"Don't Marry Her, Fuck Me"

think of you with pipe and slippers, think of her in bed
laying there just watching telly--think of me instead
I'll never grow so old and flabby, that could never be
don't marry her, fuck me

when your love life shines like cardboard, but your work shoes are glistening
she's a PhD in "I told you so," you've a knighthood in "I'm not listening"
she'll grab you by the bollocks, and slowly raise her knee
don't marry her, fuck me

and the Sunday sun shines down on San Francisco bay
when you realize you can't make it anyway
you'll have to wash the car, take the kiddies to the park
don't marry her, fuck me

those lovely Sunday mornings with breakfast brought in bed
those blackbirds look like knitting needles trying to peck your head
those birds will peck your soul out and throw away the key
don't marry her, fuck me

and the kitchen's always tidy, and the bathroom's always clean
she's a diploma in just hiding things, you've a first in low esteem
and your socks smell of angels, but your life smells of Brie
don't marry her, fuck me

and the Sunday sun shines down on San Francisco bay
when you realize you can't make it anyway
you'll have to wash the car, take the kiddies to the park
don't marry her, fuck me



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