Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song An Argument With Myself, artist - Jens Lekman. Date of issue: 19.09.2011
Song language: English
An Argument With Myself |
| Having an argument with myself down Elizabeth Street |
| Bumping into backpackers |
| And struggling with the parameters |
| And the basic construction of my feet |
| Kicking beer cans and rubbish along the concrete |
| Crossing the street and crossing galaxies |
| Of taxis and backseats and drunk suites |
| And half-Greeks |
| Shut up, no, you shut up |
| What’s the matter, take a number, Buttercup |
| Every time I hear you say, «Fuck it» |
| I would remind you of the photo in your pocket |
| How long’s it been there? |
| Two years, I bet |
| Have a sniff, it smells like a cigarette |
| When was the last time you smoked a cigarette? |
| And more importantly, who did you smoke it with? |
| Having an argument with myself down Victoria Street |
| Passing the market |
| Now the windows neon illuminating my path to defeat |
| Your grinning face scaring a poor parakeet |
| Your heavy breathing, scaring the wind |
| So rich on Summer and so sweet |
| Fuck you, no, you fuck you |
| You didn’t come here for nothing, did you? |
| I know that’s what you’ve been saying lately |
| But let me draw attention to exhibit B |
| Honeysuckle on a little plastic envelope |
| And put the flower underneath a microscope |
| See what’s written on the petals |
| Look closer, that’s her initials |
| And now I’m walking by Bev and Mick’s |
| Backpacker hostel on Victoria Street |
| Where it’s reggae night tonight |
| And the backpackers are pouring out |
| Like a tidal wave of vomit |
| I have to sit down on the curbside |
| And count the coins in my pocket |
| See if I have enough cash to take a taxi home -- |
| No |
| Alright, Jens, can we just try to figure this out? |
| Can we just talk about this, please? |
| Nah, I don’t wanna talk to you |
| Okay, you wanna keep fighting? |
| Yeah, I wanna keep on fighting |
| Alright, fair enough |
| 1, 2, 3, here we go |
| Having an argument with myself down Queensbury Street |
| The lonely light from the town hall clock tower |
| The chime of the bells striking |
| And it took shape in the form of an image |
| In the form of a living memory |
| The way her shadow used to walk by your side |
| In a different time in a different city |
| Oh please, no, you oh please |
| I wanna see you drop down on your knees |
| Someone will see your hand waving farewell |
| Why you’re hittin' yourself, why you’re hittin' yourself? |
| History repeats itself twice, said Marx |
| First as tragedy, then as farce |
| But where did I find the source |
| To make history of a love, a love like ours |
| A love like ours |