Devotchka

I will admit I am embarrassed by your grace
And the complete look of boredom upon your face
You want to be a million miles from this place
You want to get on with my untimely disgrace.
I am alone I am in love with an idea
Sophisticated Neurological appeals
I want to negotiate some kind of a deal
I want to tear it open show you that it's real
Oh the things I will believe
Ignore the hundred lovers
You got hidden up your sleeve.
The words come easily
And they sound so lovely
I guess it's just as easy if you lie to me.
Everybody they got all kinds of advice