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Martin Newell
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After the Boy Gets In
Maybe it seems right
Now I leave my change
On your dressing table every night
The days go by, the world spins on
And I forget
Just how I'd spend my time
In Bohemian evenings
Before the bombshell that you were
So I stayed out, till I came back
With bloodshot eyes
But a picture needs a frame
Like a novel needs a name
And the stars want counting one at a time
After the boy gets in
After the boy gets in
And sorry, if I'm late
They kept me talking
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But they were asking after you
And what you do
And was it true?
But I won't say.
The painting in your room
- That Spanish thing -
The Flamenco dancer looks like you
A mix of fire and taut desire
I see sometimes
But a picture needs a frame
Like a novel needs a name
And the stars want counting one at a time
After the boy gets in
After the boy gets in
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