liar, my dear

The rainfall in Morecambe embitters me,
It ***** my hair and stings my cheeks,
But you know that I am fond of you,
And all the things were yet to do.
Procrastination, pay no heed of time,
Pursue romance and beak and wine,
But you know that they're all fond of you,
And all the things you claim you'll do.
You will meet her by the statue,
And you'll tell her what she wants to hear,
Don't you know that young hearts bruise so easily,
And you sound like Billy Liar, My Dear.
Local girl put your heart in his hands,
Should it fall apart understand,
(Hell say) You know that I am fond of you,
And all the things we will never do.
Her heart
Her heart
Her heart