conversation with the flying plates

Lyrics

i'll tell you what you want to hear, tell me where i'd like to go, ask me where the summer went, that way maybe i don't know, and while my life's not in a rut, every weekend i take flight, given that today's the day, presumably tonight's must be the night, accustomed though i am, to crying in the rain, what's the point of counting sheep, when by the time you get, to ten or twelve you're asleep, you are my love you are my life, it's emblazoned on my chest, every time we have a row, i just keep it covered with a vest, you ask if i am anxious, how this will pan out, let's just say until it's foiled, answer does i fear, lie nowhere near the soil, and so the conversation, with the flying plates begin, you see a pattern now emerging, on a plate shell fling, it doesn't matter where it goes, as long as it goes fast, you recognize your favourite, china cup as it goes past, and was the meissen so enticingly, that i had to leave, surely the fact it was a wedding present, would ensure, it would remain secure, like to think within a year, we'll look back on this and laugh, only problem is it's year, one year on's already what we've had, accustomed though i am, to diamond-studded ears, which by the way on men, as it's just in one, look when hung, bent, and so the conversation, with the flying plates continues, in the yellow corner, flexing all her muscular vim, throwing overhand or underhand, it makes no odds, lovely bit of royal doulton, heading for ye gods, and in the midst of all this carnage, comes a sobering thought, most of what has been destroyed, can never be re-bought, such a shame now in the morning, as the maid comes in, on her morning stint, looking on in shock, after taking stock, of what's around her feet