(difford/tilbrook)
Hes taking her away
Hes acting like a general
Generally his game is so familiar
He wants her to play
With a toaster and a kettle
While he spends his day
Miles from the prisoner
She reads the stars he reads the sun
No wonder his iq is below 21
Hes helping her to see
How happy she is looking
Take it that hell be
No icing on her cake
O how happy she would be
If someone did the cooking
Hes helping her to see
How a marriage can be baked
Baked like a cake but without the file
The tool that she needs to make her life worthwhile
Shes not a prisoner alone doing time
To love and to cherish for all of her life
To have and to hold, to lock up inside
What can this man know about her heart
To love, til death do us part
Hes looking everywhere
She is nowhere to be found
And suddenly he cares
His dinners looking burnt
Theres a smell in the air
Theres a prisoner in town,
He sits down in his chair
His face fills with concern
Concerned that he might not eat tonight
Shes broken out of jail and run for her life