The Hawkshaws - St. Monica Lyrics

I'm stuck in a room with a bride and a groom
Her hair's all a mess , as she sprays more perfume
I'm feelin' great, never been more awake
They're placing their bets, but there's nothing at stake
They say like birds of a feather they'll stick together
Despite all the weather and screwing whoever
But I'm feelin' fine, my bloods dancing with wine
And the morning is coming too soon

She says I'm sick of the madness she's sick of the talk
She's eyeing the door and she's itching to walk
The eye of the storm, a case of bad luck
She says he's not my lover just somebody that I used to f*ck

Let's cut to the chase, they've all fallen from grace
But he doesn't know, his heads all up in space
But I'm in the mood, getting into the groove
If I am the artist then she is the muse
I'm getting the notion she lacks the devotion
She lives for the lust she don't need those emotions
With all this temptation and deadly temptation
I think that I've seen enough

She's stuck to my body she's stuck to my face
Her sense catatonic, I'm running in place
She's touching the light and still she wants more
She said it's just a good day to wake up on the floor
She's sick of the madness she's sick of the talk
She's eyeing the door and she's itching to walk
The eye of the storm, a case of bad luck
He's not my lover just somebody that I used to f*ck