Lyrics Robert Palmer – Flesh Wound
Text:
We flew over miles of ocean—be prepared.
I don’t have the faintest notion who’ll be there.
You underestimated; nobody sympathized.
I think you’ll soon feel better once we get inside.
I see the door is open — Why don’t we walk right in?
Let’s put our party hats on and let the fun begin!
We should have called and said that we were on our way;
Who would have ever guessed that you’d be so unreachable?
Just another flesh wound—another thorn in my side
Just another flesh wound—another wonder-cure that you tried
Just another flesh wound—another scratch on your hide
Just another flesh wound—another irritation you abide
You know the rumour’s going that he was synthesized.
And if we had to dress, I wouldn’t be surprised.
I say — you’re so outrageous — you’ll go to number one!
They’ll have us both arrested for having too much fun.
Just another flesh wound—another scratch on your hide.
Just another flesh wound—another thorn in your side.
Just another flesh wound—another bruise on your pride.
Just another flesh wound—another paranoia that you hide.
And when she held her nose, she took an underdose.
It was nice to see her completely comatose.
You go first, you’re completely debonair;
Let’s go dutch — it’s only fair.
Just another flesh wound—another thorn in your side.
Just another flesh wound—a minor injury you dignified.
Just another flesh wound—another unsuccessful suicide.
Just another flesh wound—another curse that you ride.
Let’s put our party hats on and let the fun begin!
We should have called and said that we were on our way;
Who would have ever guessed that you’d be so unreachable?
Just another flesh wound—another thorn in my side
Just another flesh wound—another wonder-cure that you tried
Just another flesh wound—another scratch on your hide
Just another flesh wound—another irritation you abide
You know the rumour’s going that he was synthesized.
And if we had to dress, I wouldn’t be surprised.
I say — you’re so outrageous — you’ll go to number one!
They’ll have us both arrested for having too much fun.
Just another flesh wound—another scratch on your hide.
Just another flesh wound—another thorn in your side.
Just another flesh wound—another bruise on your pride.
Just another flesh wound—another paranoia that you hide.
And when she held her nose, she took an underdose.
It was nice to see her completely comatose.
You go first, you’re completely debonair;
Let’s go dutch — it’s only fair.
Just another flesh wound—another thorn in your side.
Just another flesh wound—a minor injury you dignified.
Just another flesh wound—another unsuccessful suicide.
Just another flesh wound—another curse that you ride.
