When You Tie Your Hair Up

When you tie your hair up

And your cheekbones stares below

It stares below, it stares below

When you tie your hair up

And your neck, it stares below

As we tire’ of working

The skin creased in our palms cuts deeper each night

At the cusp of the evening

I retire, close my door, then you bid me goodnight

You bid me goodnight

Annie, won't you come back into my home again?

Annie, won't you come back into my home again?

Sometimes when I stand back, I just fool myself and blind my watchful eye

Last week I met a fortune teller

They said, “Three steps back, then forward forward you go”

But I don't know

I don't know

Annie, won't you come back into my home again?

Said, Annie, won't you come back into my home again?

Oh, Annie, won't you come back?

Won’t you come back?

Oh, Annie, won't you come back into my home again?