| We used to head down into town
|
| Where I would lend myself to you
|
| And when the conversation dries
|
| I end up kissing-kissing-kissing you
|
| But now that archeology, excavation and stratigraphy
|
| So I’ll dig up your stuff and preserve it
|
| We’ll be old in a bit
|
| So let’s make the most of it
|
| No no darling,
|
| Don’t you forget that I’m still the same boy
|
| But now I drink coffee
|
| Not just ribena and I like it, I like it
|
| We had our rooms all painted black
|
| With sleeves of albums stuck up back-to-back
|
| And now that archaeology, all assemblages of you and me
|
| So I’ll dig up all your sutff and preserve it
|
| We’ll be old in a bit
|
| But we’ll all get used to it
|
| No no darling
|
| Don’t you forget that I’m still the same boy
|
| But now I drink coffee
|
| Not just ribena and I like it, I like it
|
| We’ll be old, in a bit
|
| But not yet, so let’s make the most of it
|
| We’ll come back, from the death
|
| To relive it, to relive it
|
| No no darling
|
| Don’t you forget that I’m still the same boy
|
| But now I drink coffee
|
| Not just ribena and I like it, I like it
|
| No no darling
|
| Don’t you forget that I’m still the same boy
|
| But now I drink coffee
|
| Not just ribena and I like it, I like it |