Well the lady's been told that all her gold is worth so much she can't be sold No time to weep, she'll later sleep tomorrow When she carries her face to the market place and bets it on the open enrage She can ring her bells, miss Carousel, but this singing brings me sorrow Won't you come and get me when You're sure that you don't need me then I'll stand outside your window and proudly call your name But it's always done, every mothers sun is surely grown, and never run So they fight with a (guitaretab.com)
