Sarah Brightman. Let Me Finish. Zeneszám

Just what time of night do you call this?
No, I?m not all right. I?ve said this before
but you haven?t heard.
Let me finish, I said let me finish.
(How long did it take before you rung the doorbell?)
Hair?s combed, and your ties a little too perfect.
No more alibis, no more stupid lies, what a fool I?ve been!
Let me finish, I said let me finish.
Wait a minute you?ll get your turn,
it?s not often I get the chance to talk.
It?s getting harder to hide that I?m no spring chicken.
Forever?s not as long as it used to be.
Never thought I would ever say,
keep Manhattan, give me Muswell Hill.
Sick of looking at your fair-off sweaters
and your constant sneezing when the pollens high.
(No I don?t want a drink.) Not yet.
I?ve rehearsed these next lines for ages.
Why do I feel cold?

I suppose it?s nerves. I don?t need a drink.
It?s not the end of the world if you lose me!
I?ve made up my mind, I think that I have.
I don?t care if the neighbors hear!
You always say us British are too reserve.
I somehow hope that you would tell me
you?ve found somebody else, not now.
Let me finish.
You?ll get your chance to call me a child.
I don?t want to hurt you. Stop screaming.
It hurts when I hurt you.
Face facts, you and I are simply not suited.
I want kids. You won?t even talk about them.
Please don?t. I must not be talked into staying.