It Hurts Me

	Slipping past the chimney-pots,
	Down among the ashes, away from old times
	Why must I self-indulge in memories?
	I should be celebrating to a moving melody,

		But it hurts me, it hurts me,
		Honey, honey, it hurts me.
		And I'm feeling like a waltz,
		Growing old, old, old, old, old.

	I was fiery but you put me out.
	I was always one for loving and leaving.
	I like to think I was immune to romance.
	I should be laughing at some good old comedy.

		Oh, but it hurts me, it hurts me.
		Honey, honey, it hurts me.
		And I'm feeling like a waltz.

	If you laughed at me, I'd laugh too.
	Waltz, don't you know that I'd be really breaking.
	L'amour marche avec un etranger.
	I shouldn't care, you're not my darling anymore,

		But it hurts me, it hurts me,
		Honey, honey, honey, honey.
		And I'm feeling like a waltz,
		Growing old, old, old, old, old.


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Copyright Kate Bush Music Ltd.