SUNDAY BEST

My tulips and sage
Are torn from the earth
His fingers are dirty
And I know why

I can't have anything nice
And he can't make anything right
So our little garden
Is left there to die

If I wore lipstick he'd smear it
If I wrote him a song
He wouldn't want to hear it
Screaming until I'd be pacifed

But I keep him nearest
He's my teddy bear dearest
I'll always still need him
When it's time to cry

Maybe he was digging for fresh new words
To try and make me understand
My sunday best is never good enough
When dealing with a weekday man