Sheffield Brides

Up in the midlands with a malfunctioning heater

And a pair of wet socks that refused to dry

I summoned all of my guts to make a call that would greet her

See if she would connect her voice, would dance with mine

But she plays hard

They said 'look, here ain't a town given kindly to strangers

With Smiths tribute bands, sad closed malls and stale pies

You've got stains on the couch and your cracks in the ceiling

Go on, call reverse charge, put out that burning pride

Because she's on fire'

I smell smoke, Dorothy,

The moon is high over the sea

Scarecrows and tinmen and lions and your shoes

Go on, tap them together, resolder this fuse

Oh, wake up, my burnig bride

You're on fire, you won't help me put it out

You send me out walking and demand for the moon

I grab my butterfly net not a moment too soon.

Hey!