Teksty: Regina Spektor. Other. Ain't No Cover.

It aint no cover, it aint no style.
I shouldn't bother, he's eight miles high.
But I adore him, and I implore him,
Saying I love him mother, but this aint no style.

He sits there smoking his breath away
He sits there choking on what they say
But I adore him, and I implore him,
Saying one of these mornings I'm going away.

The sun is setting, the day is done,
Goodnight my lover, goodnight my sun.
I shouldn't bother, he's eight miles high.
But I love him, mother, till the day that I die.
Oh till the day that I die.
Oh till the day that I die.
I shouldn't bother, he's eight miles high.
But I love him, mother, till the day that I die

(Thanks to Cynthia for these lyrics)