Pretty Girls Make Graves

Upon the sand, upon the bay "There is a quick and easy way" you say Before you illustrate, I'd rather state I'm not the man you think I am I'm not the man you think I am And sorrow's native son He will not smile for anyone And pretty girls make graves Oh-oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh-oh-oh Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh End of the pier, end of the bay You tug my arm, and say "Give in to lust, give up to lust Oh, heaven knows we'll soon be dust" Oh, I'm not the man you think I am I'm not the man you think I am And sorrow's native son He will not rise for anyone And pretty girls make graves (oh, really?) Oh-oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh-oh-oh Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh I could've been wild, and I could've been free But nature played this trick on me She wants it now, and she will not wait But she's too rough and I'm too delicate Then, on the sand, another man, he takes her hand A smile lights up her stupid face, and well, it would I lost my faith in womanhood, I lost my faith in womanhood I lost my faith Oh-oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh-oh-oh Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh Hand in glove The sun shines out of our behinds Oh-oh, oh-oh