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Belmont

de The Criticals

Seven months he hasn’t been home
I wrote him in a letter
Heaven called and left at the tone
He’s got to treat you better

Heard my baby sing
Oh, oh, oh, woah-oh
Ah, ah, ah, ah, oh, oh-woah-oh
He's got to treat you better
Oh, oh, oh, woah-oh
Ah, ah, ah, ah, oh, oh-woah-oh, oh-woah-oh

I said
Where did our love go?
She don’t wanna know
She don't wanna know

Smoking cigarettes all the time
At least they’re still together
Went and downed another bottle of wine
Spilt it on her sweater
He said she opens up when she’s drunk
And I ain’t talking feelings
Called me everything but a punk
She said there’s no more time for healing

Happy sorrows
New tomorrow
Always uninvited
Happy sorrows
Never follows
Why we’re so divided

Where did our love go?
She don’t want to know

Oh, oh, oh, woah-oh
Ah, ah, ah, ah, oh, oh-woah-oh, oh-woah-oh-oh

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