You can't erase the Paper Chase
She'll make you play it
In the bright, merry mornin'.
She'll run and hide
And leave you the paper promises behind her
As she runs across the square.
You can't win the race; She'll set the pace.
You will her laughing
Just behind the foolish fences.
Throw back the gate; And find the
Piece of paper lying on the curbstone,
But the lady won't be there.
Later in the day,
You'll be searching for a way
To let her know you're ready
For her little game to end
'Cause it's getting dark and then-
You'll see her face, a glimpse of lace
And You'll go running
Through the last,sweet dying daydream,
Calling her name, but she's been home an hour,
Laughing at the mirror
As she combs her paper hair.
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David Bowie:
Art Garfunkel:
Art Garfunkel:
Art Garfunkel:
