We're back in the South West after fun and restful times in Wales and Brighton.
Good things about today: walking along Penzance prom after work, wandering back through Morrab gardens, and listening to Sia all day. These lyrics are awesome!
"Sweet Potato"
She cooks you sweet potato
You don't like aubergine
She knows to boil the kettle
When you hum bars from Grease
She senses you are lonely
But still she can't be sure
And so she stands and waits
Stands anticipating
How can she become the psychic that she longs to be to understand you
How can she become the psychic that she longs to be to understand you
He brushes thoroughly
He know she likes fresh breath
He rushes to the station
He waits atop the steps
He's brought with him a mars bar
She will not buy nestle
And later he'll perform
A love-lorn serenade, a trade
How can she become the psychic that she longs to be to understand you
How can she become the psychic that she longs to be to understand you
So give her information to help her fill the holes
Give an ounce of power so he does not feel controlled
Help her to acknowledge the pain that you are in
Give to him a glimpse of that beneath your skin
Now my inner dialogue is heaving with detest
I am a martyr and a victim and I need to be caressed
I hate that you negate me, I'm a ghost at beck and call
I'm falling and placating, and berating myself for staying
I'm a fool
I'm a fool
He greets his stranger meekly
A thing that she accepts
She sees him waiting often
With chocolate on the steps
He senses she is lonely
She's glad they finally met
They take each other's hands
Walk into the sunset
Do you like sweet potato?
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