(Written by Elvis Costello, Transcribed by Craig Ciccone w/ Bolan's Corrections)

Oh, a TV went off like three day old milk
That shook this town down better than most
And it always was less of idea and more of a boast
Oh, you're burning in the bloom of life
'Til you're powder in the grave
Or you're pounding in the counter beggin' for more
'Til you evaporate


You'd forgive her anything
If you look like you, my pretty Miss
I wonder where you are tonight
And this place becomes pityless


Oh, I couldn't sleep, but I can't complain
Oh, this won't hurt a bit, oh, this won't hurt again
When the roof comes down and the walls move in
Oh, he didn't know it could feel like that
And your face turned away and the day turned black
And the rain fell like a curtain
Oh, it's my turn to begin
To forgive her anything


You'd forgive her anything
If you knew what I know

To be continued...