Under the Rug

There’s an angel in the kitchen scrambling eggs.

Wings of white feathers with long tall legs.

Nobody sees her except the eyes of mine.

She is so divine, laughing while she sips her wine.

I know you, my love.

I know you more than God above.

So quit sweeping me under the rug.

You know I’m afraid of what you’ll do or what you’ll say.

I promise devotion,

With no walls of emotion.

There’s a red clay pot in the cupboard I found today.

It’s where I kept your letters. I never read them anyway.

Don’t burn the kettle trying to prove you’re right.

It keeps me up at night. It holds my heart way too tight.

I know you, my love.

I know you more than God above.

So quit sweeping me under the rug.

You know I’m afraid of what you’ll do or what you’ll say.

But I promise devotion,

With no walls of emotion.

I promise devotion.

I know you, my love.

I know you more than God above.

So quit sweeping me under the rug.

You know I’m afraid of what you’ll do or what you’ll say.

But I promise devotion,

With no walls of emotion.

I promise devotion,

With no walls of emotion.