Guest
She paints her fingers with a close precision He starts to notice empty bottles of gin And takes a moment to assess the sin She’s paid for A lone speaker in a conversation Her words are swimming through his ears again There’s nothing wrong with just a taste Of what you’ve paid for Say what you mean, Tell me I’m right And let the sun rain down on me Give me a sign, I wanna believe Oh, Mona Lisa You’re guaranteed to run this town Oh, Mona Lisa I’d pay to see you frown
