Baby on My Arm

I won't leave it to you
 This task of burning through a
 Wounded year, my darling,
 Never once was a sorry man
 I want my baby on my arm
 I want my baby on my arm
 I want my baby on my arm
 Two lips angled on yours
 In the park I thought I told you
 Once, maybe two times, as I guess
 I was right, you weren't that special to me
 I want my baby on my arm
 I want my baby on my arm
 I want my baby on my arm
 Back on Sunday
 Leaving Monday
 I'm going down
 Back on Sunday
 Leaving Monday
 I'm going down
 Pretty paper playing
 On a distant radio station
 Extra old and an angry,
 Does the faith of trails address the sound?
 I want my baby on my arm
 I want my baby on my arm
 I want my baby on my arm
 I want my baby on my arm
 I want my baby on my arm
 I want my baby on my arm