Текст песни
Twenty years of toe to toe, twenty years of the same old track
You call me "Jones" like I'm a stranger, I call you "Trunchbull" back
Twenty years — not sighs and whispers, twenty years — a fight with air
Like some endless Middle East thing, but without the millionaires
And when we finally crawl to bed — it's just like yesterday
Same old moves, same old flesh in the same old way
Could you at least pretend a little orgasm?
Sarcasm!
Twenty years — the same old smells: yours — onion, garlic, grease and grime
Mine — gasoline again. This house? A madhouse all the time
You: "Take the trash out!" Me: "Then peel the potatoes, please!
Sometimes just a word or two — and we grind each other with such ease
And when we finally crawl to bed — it's just like yesterday
Same old moves, same old flesh in the same old way
Could you at least pretend a little orgasm?
Sarcasm!
Twenty years — no "ohs" and "ahs", twenty years — a shadow fight
Me: "Where the hell are all my socks?" You: "Where's my patience gone tonight?
You stole the blanket, I took your pillow when the morning came
We bicker morning until night — two old biddies, just the same
And when we finally crawl to bed — it's just like yesterday
Same old moves, same old flesh in the same old way
Could you at least pretend a little orgasm?
Sarcasm!
Twenty years inside one bed — but back to back for quite a while
And all those "ohs" and sighs and moans — I couldn't give a damn, no style
And if one evening I break silence, say one word before I choke
You bare your teeth: "That's Mr. Jones!" I sigh: "Of course, Miss Trunchbull" — joke
And when we finally crawl to bed — it's just like yesterday
Same old moves, same old flesh in the same old way
Could you at least fake one single orgasm?
Sarcasm!
Sarcasm!
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