Tongue Like a Knife - (Chris Difford, Glenn Tilbrook)

    The head of a hunt on the wall by a painting
    An upright piano stood locked by the door
    In through the window
    The light was fast fading
    While I spilt my whiskey
    All over the floor

    Making a mess of my words so
    I was trying
    To impress the Empress with
    My wimpy tales
    Fanning her face from cigar smoke
    And sighing
    I had come close to be miles
    From her trail

    She was the jewel that
    Sparkled in darkness
    She was the love
    Of everyone's life
    She was the catch at
    Everyone's parties
    She was the one with a tongue
    Like a knife

    Her bosoms curved perfectly
    Lit by the fire
    My mind launched away
    In a sea of its own
    Her grace and her tightness
    I had to admire
    Through a whore's breath of stories
    I happily told

    Trespassing my hand
    Fell into hot water
    She shot like a bullet
    Right out of her chair
    She led me away and I
    Was then slaughtered
    By the warmth of her body
    And her love and care

    Her tongue cut away
    And the wounds slowly opened
    I lay on the sails of the
    Ship of romance
    Drunk as I could be and
    Broker than broken and
    The head of my hunt
    Was there in my hands

    Marco Giunco
    Work Basket Music Words