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The Correspondents
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Rose And Jane
From between their mother's thighs
They were squeezing, pushing, scrunched eyes and wild cries
Gosh, look at their wisp of blooded curls
Congratulations, two bouncing baby girls
So a pair of lives began from one single egg
To make the same feline face, the same length of leg
Bestowed with the same grace, the same smile, the same hands
The same hair, the same skin, with some the same chance
The same light lovely lilt when they speak
The same laugh that starts with the same small squeak
Followed by a blush of the same soft cheeks
Rose and Jane
Never apart, and so they say
They thought they'd play a naughty game
To match their makeup, hairs and clothes
And orchestrate so nobody know they're two
Attack team - carefully planned
To be used in a party with an especially handsome man
Rose would meet and greet and flirt and smile
And slip away for a little while
I need a drink, I need the loo
I need to do what ladies do
That's rich
And Jane returns without the slightest stitch
They guess what their sister said - I dance - a dance
And the suitors too believe that they are one
He even finds the loops of conversation rather fun
Flirt, swap, flirt
Kiss, swap, kiss
I'll take you back home, I'll meet you there, little tiss
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Between the sheets Jane leaves while Rose slides in
To finish what was started by her next of kin
This was a game no more
This was a game no more
This was a game no more...
For Rose, the evening was just a double dare
But for Jane, this was a night of deep despair
She had fallen in love, and she didn't want to share
She didn't want to share
She didn't want to share
They were alone in the bar
Thrumming, Rose said that they should wake up
With all three of them in bed
She wanted to reveal that they had fooled him all night
Jane pleaded with her, saying it didn't feel right
If he knows he'll only see us as the deviant pair
He'll never understand that I really, too, care
Can't you see that I have never felt this way before?
Rose smiled, and opened up the bedroom door
And he saw
Jane and Rose
Rose and Jane
Jane and Rose, Rose and Jane...
To feel the deepest envy, such a shame
To despise your twin through a cunning little game
Jealousy and envy, what a shame
To hate your other half through a cunning little game
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