| From the Hamilton to the A3
|
| She must have been about 17 going on 18
|
| They used to want to charge her at the overpass
|
| Cigarettes taste best when they taste like daydreams
|
| But the days are long gone now
|
| But she still looks back
|
| Back to the first ever boy she loved
|
| And didn’t love her back
|
| My Joan of Arc
|
| Her? |
| in my bed
|
| Those three kind words
|
| She never heard said
|
| I was caravans, bands, cans and backseats
|
| She was more diazepam, trams, tans and spreadsheets
|
| Looking back then we both laugh
|
| Funny how you never give a fuck when you’re 20
|
| But she was alone then
|
| And it still makes her mad
|
| How the boys use to lead her on
|
| Just to get in her pants
|
| My Joan of Arc
|
| Her? |
| in my bed
|
| Her lonely heart
|
| Can find it hard to forgive and forget
|
| The love she once had
|
| Would run as soon as he read
|
| Those three kind words
|
| She never heard said
|
| So from the anagrams to the flat keys
|
| Spend most of our time now counting back from 30
|
| My old mate Terry just got discharged
|
| At her majesty’s pleasure he was never that cosy
|
| But these older days we know now
|
| That they’re not all that
|
| They’re some of the best weather days
|
| That I’ll ever have
|
| My Joan of Arc
|
| Her? |
| in my bed
|
| Her lonely heart
|
| Can find it hard to forgive and forget
|
| The love she once had
|
| Would run as soon as he read
|
| Those three kind words
|
| She never heard said |