Letters to Cleo Get on with it Lyrics:
The Sunday Paper is a mess and I'm not gonna pick
it up you are if I could just get on with it. It
don't matter my hair's a mess cause you're not
gonna fix it up for me, I am if I could just get
on with it, I would take a breath outside myself a
stranger place I couldn't find and no one knows
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who I am and you can't say my name. Can't think of
anything else worse 'cause if I didn't fuck it up
you would why can't you just do something right.
Just once change my mind cause if you can I'd be
the one you know I am but you're so blind, you
always were I didn't catch your name. I would take
a breath outside myself a stranger place I
couldn't find and no one knows who I am and you
can't say my name.
Lyrics: Get on with it, Letters to Cleo [end]