Buddy Bradley

This is not a good day to call me
 Because I cannot spare some sympathy
 My own feeling is mostly unclear
 And when I'm talking to you I'm not here
 I don't think I'll ever be ready for you
 But I'll be trying to help you out too
 So I went downstairs for a walk
 But I had no strength to not talk
 Yes you were the flatulent one
 And I am the boy who has a gun
 You ran into me with such force
 Now all I can be is Buddy Bradley
 And all of her friends have been approved by them
 And all I can hear is people singing
 Now two of a kind has come across my mind
 Where forever more is painted on her door
 Just cancel the Sunday salon
 And bury the grave digger's son
 No money could last for too long
 Nobody could pay for this song
 And all of her friends have been approved by them
 And all I can hear is people singing
 Now two of a kind has come across my mind
 Where forever more is painted on her door
 Yes you were the flatulent one
 And I am the boy who has a gun
 You ran into me with such force
 Now all I can bee is Buddy Bradley