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Upon the sand, upon the bay...
There is quick and easy way you say
Before you illustrate I'd rather state:
I'm not the man you think I am
And sorrow's native son...
He will not smile for anyone
And pretty girls make graves
End of the pier, end of the bay...
You tug my arm, and say
Give in to lust, give up to lust
Oh, heaven knows we'll soon be dust.
Oh, I'm not the man you think I am
I'm not the man you think I am
And sorrow's native son...
He will not rise for anyone.
And pretty girls make graves.
I could have been wild...
And I could have been free...
But nature played this trick on me
She wants it now
And she will not wait
But she's too rough
And I'm too delicate...
Then, on the sand
Another man, he takes her hand
A smile lights up her stupid face...
And well, It would
I lost my faith in womanhood
I lost my faith in womanhood
I lost my faith
Hand in glove
The sun shines out of our behinds...
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