...And in Every Home Lyrics

You turn to the sinister when you get the boot
Sliding down the banister in your Sunday suit
Lying on a slag heap of blankets and magazines
She`s only thirty-five going on seventeen
You`d better roll over and go to sleep if you don`t come clean

[Chorus:]
And in every home there will be lots of time
I will be all yours you might have been admired

They say they`re very sorry but you are not desired
Oh heaven preserve us
Oh heaven preserve us
Oh heaven preserve us
Because they don`t deserve us

Holding your life in your hand
With an artificial limp wrist
And so a young blade becomes a has-been
Looking for a new twist

A year after the wedding he broke all their china plates
He`s in prison now she`s running with his mates
Sees him every Sunday
And he asks her where she`s been
She`s only thirty-five going on seventeen
She`s going to cop a packet if he ever finds her
In between the sheets

[Chorus]