Mathilda - Little Comets

Oh decry

With these two fingers I can show you why

That I’m restricted

When you kiss me so promiscuously

I’ll be screaming go Tilly go

Oh delay

Without these shackles I can show the way

To make you obfuscate

And push aside untensills

I’ll be screaming go Tilly go

When all this commotion dies down

She’ll deliver a subtle solliloquy

Straight to his pillow

Which frowns as she strikes it

With fists that insist

The light of their fridge door

Was always a metaphor

I’m bewildered

So please explain to me right now Mathilda

How all the friction in your diction

Leaves me staring at you

I’m still screaming go Tilly go

I’ll decide

With these two fingers I can show you why

Despite my lethargy and mispronunciation

I’ll be screaming go Tilly go

When all this commotion dies down

She’ll deliver a pointed solliloquy

So full of agony

He’ll be embarrassed

And walk on the terrace

Whose slate floor he always found

Seemed like a metaphor

Aaiiiiii…

P-r-o-m-i-s-e-s

The promises

P-r-o-m-i-s-e-s

(Sick of) the promises