The Postman

I watch the sun come up

While you're sleeping it off

When you go out for your news

And curse your smoker's cough

I bring you bills to pay

And letters from the state

Then you go inside and I walk away

I'm the postman

I'm the postman

And I walk you street for hours

Like some kind of jerk

With my grey clip tie and

My pressed blue shirt

And when you leave for work

I think you're turning to flirt

But you're turning away and it always hurts

I'm the Postman

I'm the Postman

I'm the Postman

I'm the Postman

I'm the Postman

I'm the Postman

I know why you stare East

It's where your man's run off

And I know why your trash

Bin is brimming with his art

'Cause when he was abroad

I read his last postcard

He met some brit named

Cass and it broke your heart

I'm the postman

I'm the postman

I'm the postman

I'm the postman

I'm the postman