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You turn to the sinister when you get the bootSliding down the banister in your Sunday suitLying on a slag heap of blankets and magazinesShe's only thirty-five going on seventeenYou'd better roll over and go to sleep if you don't come clean[Chorus:]And in every home there will be lots of timeI will be all yours you might have been admired(And in every home there will be lots of time)They say they're very sorry but you are not desiredOh heaven preserve usOh heaven preserve usOh heaven preserve usBecause they don't deserve usHolding your life in your handWith an artificial limp wristAnd so a young blade becomes a has-beenLooking for a new twistA year after the wedding he broke all their china platesHe's in prison now she's running with his matesSees him every SundayAnd he asks her where she's beenShe's only thirty-five going on seventeenShe's going to cop a packet if he ever finds herIn between the sheets[Chorus] Aus Songtexte Mania