Buddy Bradley

This is not a good day to call me Because I cannot spare some sympathy My own feeling is mostly unclear And when I'm talking to you I'm not here I don't think I'll ever be ready for you But I'll be trying to help you out too So I went downstairs for a walk But I had no strength to not talk Yes you were the flatulent one And I am the boy who has a gun You ran into me with such force Now all I can be is Buddy Bradley And all of her friends have been approved by them And all I can hear is people singing Now two of a kind has come across my mind Where forever more is painted on her door Just cancel the Sunday salon And bury the grave digger's son No money could last for too long Nobody could pay for this song And all of her friends have been approved by them And all I can hear is people singing Now two of a kind has come across my mind Where forever more is painted on her door Yes you were the flatulent one And I am the boy who has a gun You ran into me with such force Now all I can bee is Buddy Bradley