Pretty Girls Make Graves
Upon the sand, upon the bay"There is a quick and easy way" you saybefore you illustrateI'd rather state:
"I'm not the man you think I amI'm not the man you think I am"
And Sorrow's native sonhe will not smile for anyone
And pretty girls make graves
End of the pier, end of the bayyou tug my arm and say: "Give in to lust,give up to lust, oh heaven knows we'llsoon be dust. . ."
But I'm not the man you think I amI'm not the man you think I am
And Sorrow's native sonhe will not rise for anyone
And pretty girls make graves
I could have been wild and I could have been freebut Nature played the trick on me
She wants it Nowand she will not waitbut she's too roughand I'm too delicate
Then, on the sandanother man, he takes her handa smile lights up her stupid face(and well, it would)
I lost my faith in WomanhoodI lost my faith in WomanhoodI lost my faith