I’ve been stuck on your doorstep for all of my life
My wife says I’m nothing but the postman but I have to lie
Because that knock will take me right back
To a time when we played poor guitar and necked God awful wine – red in colour unlike the state of my heart
Ever since – drenched by Rococo black
Rack these letters on up, I’m but a bedraggled puppet on a rope
Hope is all that I have and I’ll take what I can get right this minute
Lick my stamp for I’m about to go postal on your ass

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