Love is not all you need, but it might be enough, to get you
through the night, no tricky dicky, just imagine, just give me some through, I
am not the walrus or the eggman, only a paperback writer writing, in love with
someone who is not a Madonna, but with a woman who keeps her face in the jar by
the door, someone who I would be pleased to please, who takes me across the
universe, as I follow the sun, I am Mr. Mustard who cries for help the middle
of the night, watching fall in love with a man (maybe from the motor trade,)
her face is the face I see when I close my eyes, through it is not my guitar
that weeps, while I wait for the sun to come, needing to get together,
strolling through Penny Lane or Strawberry Fields, with her our without her.
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