Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song K2, artist - elbow.
Date of issue: 02.02.2017
Song language: English
K2 |
I’m imagining rippling fingers on keys |
Miming it wild on a cold stone table |
Picturing and wishing for home and jiggling my knees |
Send an urgent cable |
Dickhead’s done a runner and he’s wondering if anyone cares |
Is the landing light on |
Back to the pebbles that mum’s eggs hatched in |
Give me her perfume, give me her prayers and advice |
Hands up if you’ve never seen the sea |
I’m from a land with an island status |
Makes us think that everyone hates us, maybe darling they do |
But they haven’t met you |
They only know the villains at the tiller |
And they gambled the farm on a headline, Jesus |
Getting harder to see what they’re doing ‘til it’s done |
And they’re never gonna make an arrest on Fleet Street |
Yes and I’m given to believing in love |
I’ve written the word in my blood |
And I perch on a shelf of the K2 |
Made of the believers that love |
Opens the fist just enough for a hand |
To slip into the hand |
I’ve been asleep in the woods with a mother to be |
Planning on a static caravan in the Andes |
Making a break with the steel magpie on the rise |
Defeat in our time |
Or do we meet on the street again due to the few? |
Batter it out and refresh vendetta |
Better surely to pause, consider the path |
It’s full of blood, snot and teeth and the glory of no one |
Hands up if you’ve never seen the sea |
We’re from a place with an island status |
Queuing round the corner for a pencil and paper again |
Come the virus of virii |
God send us to a digital end |
With following strangers and swiping at friends |
I’ll send you a postcard, see you in Hull |
In a sweater made of Atacama llama wool |
Yes and I’m given to believing in love |
I’ve written the word in my blood |
And I perch on a shelf of the K2 |
Made of the believers that love |
Opens the fist just enough for a hand |
To slip into the hand |
Yes and I’m given to believing in love |
I’ve written the word in my blood |
I’ve seen it make a heaven of |
Backstreet, bedsit and bomb site living room love |
Opens the fist just enough for a hand |
To slip into the hand |
To slip into the hand |