Paper Chase

You can’t erase the Paper Chase

She’ll make you play it

In the bright merry morning

She’ll run and hide

And leave you the paper promises

Behind her as she runs across the square

You can’t win the race, She’ll set the pace

You will hear her laughing

Just behind the foolish fences

Throw back the gate and find the

Piece of paper lying on the curbstone,

But the lady won't be there.

Later in the day,

You’ll be searching for a way

To let her know you’re ready

For her little game to end

Cause it’s getting dark, and then-

You’ll see her face, a glimpse of lace

And you’ll go running

Through the last sweet dying daydream

Calling her name, but she’s been home an hour,

Laughing at the mirror

As she combs her paper hair.