You can't erase the Paper Chase She'll make you play it In the bright merry morning She'll run and hide And leave you the paper promises Behind her as she runs across the square You can't win the race, She'll set the pace You will hear her laughing Just behind the foolish fences Throw back the gate and find the Piece of paper lying on the curbstone, But the lady won't be there. Later in the day, You'll be searching for a way To let her know you're ready For her little game to end Cause it's getting dark, and then- You'll see her face, a glimpse of lace And you'll go running Through the last sweet dying daydream Calling her name, but she's been home an hour, Laughing at the mirror As she combs her paper hair.