(Rod Stewart / Martin Quittenton)
I had nothing to do on this hot afternoon
but to settle down and write you a line
I've been meaning to phone you but from Minnesota
hell it's been a very long time
You wear it well
A little old fashioned but that's all right
Well I suppose you're thinking I bet he's sinking
or he wouldn't get in touch with me
Oh I ain't begging or losing my head
I sure do want you to know that you wear it well
There ain't a lady in the land so fine
Remember them basement parties, your brother's karate
the all day rock and roll shows
Them homesick blues and radical views
haven't left a mark on you, you wear it well
A little out of time but I don't mind
But I ain't forgetting that you were once mine
but I blew it without even tryin'
Now I'm eatin' my heart out
tryin' to get a letter through
Since you've been gone it's hard to carry on
I'm gonna write about the birthday gown that I bought in town
when you sat down and cried on the stairs
You knew it did not cost the earth, but for what it's worth
You made me feel a millionaire and you wear it well
Madame Onassis got nothing on you
Anyway, my coffee's cold and I'm getting told
that I gotta get back to work
So when the sun goes low and you're home all alone
think of me and try not to laugh and I wear it well
I don't object if you call collect
'cos I ain't forgetting that you were once mine
but I blew it without even tryin'
Now I'm eatin' my heart out tryin' to get back to you
After all the years I hope it's the same address
Since you've been gone it's hard to carry onSo here I stand : Face to face with the world
So curled up in reality : Suffocating in the womb of moral receipt
Often I feel the blood as it flows through my veins
Gushing life through my heart. Pumping thoughts to my brain
Hang myself out like a sheet soaking wet
For I long to feel winds that I haven't felt yet
Sometimes I feel I'm hanging by a thread
Burning candles at both ends
Close to falling off the edge
Sometimes...
I don't know if I can hold on anymore
Now, I stand accused of all the things that I've done
But my violence here is in protest : For I'm not a guilty one
I only believe what I see fit to believe
I pretend to be desperate to get what I need
And I'd raise my fist to the injustice I'm faced at
But, I'm unable to fight with my hands tied behind my back
So hang me up high, in a tree, facing north
I'll be burning my bridges as you're slapping the horse
It's too late to run
And it's much too late for running away
You see it in the eyes of caged animals
You see it in the faces of women scorned
It's not anger that makes the cobra strike
It's fear and only fear through which hatred is born
You see, it's sitting here in silence where bitter thoughts are sewn
It's one free life and sanity we want sacred as our own
But there are other planes I'm looking for in my search for peace & truth
It's the shadow of fear and hatred that has put me in this noose