Testo Wedding day Paul Young

Wedding day

Woe is me, the press gang came
And forced my love away
Just when we named next morning fair
To be our wedding day
Like a silent explosion ripping into the heart
And the hurt and the anguish do tear you apart
With a swiftness of hand that I cannot condone
And discardance of life that is not of your own
Then a small piece of hear say becomes a big deal
But that is not the issue, the issue is real.
When a turn of the page can turn love into hate
Don't forget that's the power of the fourth estate.
And a tall string of words keep me tied to the chair
Where before I was blistfully unaware
And my skin becomes thicker so I never get hurt
I'm a man without feeling and I wish that I weren't
Though you're long dead and gone there is still no escape
Just forget it, just forget it, you'll never cut all that tape
And once you're a victim, your love will turn to hate
Don't forget that's the power of the fourth estate.