My Beautiful

Wake up every morning to the sound of the radio screaming… 6.30 – 7.30 – 8 o’clock; and I have to leave… Walk out on the street with nothing on accept the blame of last night… And a number in my hand of a girl I don’t really need…

Where do I fit in? Where’s my place here? What do I need to say? What do you want to hear? Where do I fit in, if she’s in your bed? Where’s my beautiful?

Late night – long day; it doesn’t make much difference to me, anyway… You called – I answered; but baby I’m only half awake… “Hush little one, with you here everything is going to be okay” – is what you say… But what if things don’t go that way?

Where do I fit in? Where’s my place here? What do I need to say? What do you want to hear? Where do I fit in, if she’s in your bed? Where’s my beautiful?

Ohhhh, ohhhhh

Where do I fit in? Where’s my place here? What do I need to say? What do you want to hear? Where do I fit in, if she’s in your bed? Where’s my beautiful?

Ohhh, oohhh

Ohhh, ohhhh