Fruitmarket Fantasy


I'm getting nowhere
Sitting in my room alone
Drinkin' pink lemonade
And I'm starin' at the telephone
She's getting nowhere
Staring at the counter all day
Selling heads of lettuce
And bottles of pink lemonade

These days
All it takes to move me is
A Tropicana smoothie
And a smile
But I haven't shaved in sometime,
And two bucks are hard to come by,
So I think I'm gonna be here for a while

(Oh No)

No clocks to punch,
Oh we're sittin' at lunch,
And I'm glancin' at her a lot
And you're getting kinda angry,
Eatin' pickles and fries,
You don't think that she's that hot

Well she's not that hot
She's just like me,
Overcrowded and all alone
We wake up and we break up
And then we head back home
Only home doesn't feel much like home,
Anymore







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