A slow drift on a stagnant day
It's nature's finest serenade
The whistle of two birds in love
Ruffling their feathers at the Supper Club
On Saturday she walks in the park
And you can't say I Love You till it's after dark
And no one ever bothered to give you a shove
Now you're growing old in a Supper Club
It's really something that you're
What I imagined to be true
The Roads of Home all lead to you
Down the line, underneath the shade
Jeffery Dahmer's drinking up his lemonade
And up among the stars, he really feels the love
In the land of the butchers and the Supper Clubs

SOUMETTRE LES CORRECTIONS