The time I’d spent in Chelsea was done,
but, looking back, it seems it ended sooner than it had begun
And though the memories still tear at me,
they’ve brought me to these steps, I fear
Whatever you do, don’t tell her I was here
The first time she laughed in my ear, I was consumed
But when it came to me, it seemed she only ever was amused
Can you tell her how my heart skipped beats whenever she was near?
Just, whatever you do, don’t tell her I was here
Don’t tell her I was here
Then she’d go out alone, and I’d be left to sate my own thirst,
‘til I couldn’t keep down what I kicked back, and that wasn’t the worst
Tell her I’m sorry for that Saturday: it was the whiskey and the beer—
But, whatever you do, don’t tell her I was here
Don’t tell her I was here
Then she poured me just like so much water, straight down the drain
But I never loved her more than I did the last time she walked me to the train
And down my arm, to my finger ran one of her crocodile tears
Oh, god, whatever you do, don’t tell her I was here
Don’t tell her I was here
Whatever you do, don’t tell her I was here
Irish singer-songwriter Sarah E. Cullen bares her heart over pastoral folk arrangements enshrouded in a dream-pop haze. Bandcamp New & Notable Apr 29, 2021
A hushed and low-lit EP from this Melbourne musician, where dreamlike melodies drift across a bed of tender guitar. Bandcamp New & Notable Aug 19, 2023