Skinny Boy (Amy Millan)

Skinny boy, all bones, no lies Your so miserable in the mornings Will, you will wait up for me It's sordid and I can't find my feet And you've got lips I could spend a day with Skinny boy, somewhere, some prostitution Some devour, some doubt, some dance They're coming with swords through the back door And there you are on the fence With those lips I could spend a day with When its done ill drink champagne to the lonely Lonely in me Monday, Tuesday, so lonely Wednesday, Thursday, only me Friday, Saturday, only me Here comes Sunday