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Lyric provided by www.seekalyric.com |
Irma waits by the window, Vaguely looking down at her socks And humming Possibly her father will come home with a box Of chocolates Possibly not Father's memory was never what it once was Shouldn't really drive anymore Either As if in answer, With a sound like blowing up your Ears, father's jeep crashes Through Irma's wall She says Bad words as several hundred Boxes of her favorite kind Of chocolate fill her bedroom. But she doesn't actually mind |