| It started with a bang, smoke spilled out of the door
|
| And sparks skipped across the pavement
|
| The clouds nodded overhead like worried hands
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| Fidgeting with their knuckles
|
| And twisting a wedding band
|
| Small beads of sweat trickled down the gutters and the drains
|
| As we made our way to the safety of the car
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| Through the rush hour traffic we weaved
|
| And we turned down a backstreet and ditched our coats
|
| And the strays are out now, they can tell that something’s up
|
| Maybe in their half tails or crooked paws
|
| The wind changes, the pressure eases
|
| And the nosebleeds set in to the early evening
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| We pause, we talk, we plan
|
| We make the best of what we can
|
| And I hold you tighter than ever before
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| And your hair smells like roman candles
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| And your eyes were like two Catherine wheels
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| Just spinning, spinning, spinning
|
| You don’t have to be mad to live here
|
| You don’t have to worry
|
| You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to
|
| There are millions of people out there
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| Fucking, fighting, eating and sleeping
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| And we are not one of them
|
| Oh no, we are the fly in the ointment
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| The hair in the food
|
| The snag, the catch, the conundrum
|
| And can you smell it now
|
| The heat, the stone, the steel, the glass?
|
| Twisting the opinions, the words, the figures and the facts
|
| And it feels like I’m staring at a hole in the wall
|
| And it feels like I’m falling through nothing at all
|
| And it feels like I’m wearing a blindfold clutching at straws
|
| And it feels I’m losing a grip on my life
|
| And it feels like its slipping out of my grasp
|
| And it feels like it’s coming to an end
|
| And it feels like it’s coming to an end
|
| Like it’s coming to a
|
| Bonfire of the city boys
|
| Bonfire of the city boys
|
| Bonfire of the city boys
|
| Bonfire of the city boys
|
| Bonfire of the city boys
|
| Bonfire of the city boys
|
| Bonfire of the city boys
|
| Bonfire of the city boys |