Last Thursday
5.30
A shoot in Ladbroke Grove
Hours later
Hey, waiter
Could you pour some more of those?
All for you and when I'm all alone
I'm by the microphone
I see your photograph
Don't even want to laugh
Some secret must keep it
Hey, I wouldn't know who to tell
Next morning, fair warning
Ooh you, have you got something to sell?
Wide awake, the cold cold light of day
Realize my taste
My taste just slips away
I say my taste just slips away
Days later
Saw the paper
How did I fall for you?
All for you
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