Letra de Ballad

She paints her fingers with a close precision
He starts to notice empty bottles of gin
And takes a moment to assess the sin she's paid for
A lonely speaker in a conversation
Her words are swimming through his ears again
There's nothing wrong with just a taste
Of what you paid for

Say what you mean, tell me I'm right
And let the sun rain down on me
Give me a sign, I want to believe

Whoa, Mona Lisa
You're guaranteed to run this town
Whoa, Mona Lisa
I'd pay to see you frown