With her hair up in her fingers, the fish and chip smell lingersUnder amber street lamps, she holds them all in her handsThe moistness of the damp night, falls silent through the lamplightThough she's only fourteen, she really knows her contentEnough of railway sightings, there's him and her, they're lyingHand in hand they whisper, you're my missus, I'm your misterThe moon was white and virgin, and she was on the turningRemember your first nibble, when best friends were so littleThey really took the colours, from walking with each otherAnd all her mates would giggle, cause they knew that she'd wiggleAll along the high street, they'd splash out all her ice creamThey'd sometimes really treat her, when it done it's mother's meterWell he went up to the bar's door, he said that he was forced to robThe rights of high fives, cause she was ill and she would cryEach morning she got sicker, her mother sometimes hit herIf she'd have known this story, she would have been so sorryHe received a letter and a page, there was nothing else to do but get rid of itLonely in his dormitory, he'd sit and stareIs this for real, or is it really fair?Some case or they went, down to ColesAnd his pet she cooked upon his primer, with some good local ciderShe told him, in his rock sack, I think I want that chest backTo be perhaps the one who, will forever love youTo be perhaps the one who, will forever love you*