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1
Hand me my five and dime,
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Pass me my shirt hung on the line.
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I'll polish up my boots
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And then take the first plane stateside I can find.
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It's a handicap to try to see this far,
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When this place seems so cramped and small.
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In the streets they whisper legends
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And it seems that I'm riding for a fall.
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I'm leaving,
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I'm leaving.
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All of my sense is shot,
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The streets are like a premonition of a crime.
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I wrote without you,
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Then I took the first plane stateside I could find.
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If they could they would've stopped me,
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They'd say I'm gaping at a dream.
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I'm leaving,
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I'm leaving.
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So I polish up my brand new car,
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Then take my tunes from door to door.
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I try not to see their faces
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As I'm dealing out my aces,
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The horizon seems so far away.
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From a penthouse for a king and queen
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I expected more of the stuff of dreams.
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If they can they like to get their man
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And cut him right down to his knees.
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And I'm reeling,
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Once again I'm leaving.
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I'm leaving
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And once again I'm leaving.
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And I'm leaving,
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Once again I'm leaving.
Amy Winehouse - Back To Black
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