we've had enough to drink to drown our silent cry, moisture collects at the rim of his eye
living with his wife and his wife's new boyfriend, he sits on his bed with his Kellogg's cornflakes
his words of wisdom got socialist leanings garnered from his sexual adventure
a teenage boy before the advent of grindr, spending his nites with an axe to grind her
--in a cycle of worry and drug addiction
booze on the bus and booze at the station
it's closing time as we rush to the shelter
back in the 90s it was better
but now we spend all our evenings in the boozer
as if we've given up on the future
no holiday but the cider's on offer
cheaper than a plane to Oslo
Looking out over Merry Hill, he don't wanna go home,
Graffiti stains under neon streetlight, (thru the gloom they dont shine ) west midlands bus and we re going nowhere,
in the heart of the Black Country, yam alrite if u do not dream he don't wanna go home
--
will we find ourselves, will we find someone, it s getting pretty late still she hasn't come
the screen on the bus stop says in half an hour, but fuck the future the present's is awful now...
all your efforts failed, teenage dreams have died,
left waiting for the day when hearts collide
i always thought that happiness came when you met someone
these days nothing is certain but the lack of affection.
but keep your head up man this life don't last and it s hard to breathe...
all your efforts failed, teenage dreams have died,
left waiting for the day when hearts collide
i always thought that happiness came when you met someone
these days nothing is certain but the lack of affection.
but keep your head up man this life don't last and it s hard to breathe...
you said the key to being happy is a clear conscience but I don't see how you can living in the bushes
No comments:
Post a Comment