| Whispers in a cyclone
|
| Going 'round and 'round and 'round they’re getting louder
|
| Love songs get fucking boring
|
| When you’re picking petals every morning
|
| I got a backbone built like driftwood
|
| Well travelled but you know I’m brittle
|
| I’m no used to me or you
|
| So tell me what should I do
|
| When I’m locked up like a fist
|
| That is bloodless shaking, waiting for you
|
| I’d happily be a shoulder on a cold train seat
|
| Be a body in a warm white sheet
|
| But that takes two
|
| I’m sober now
|
| My head is full of dark grey clouds
|
| Pussy makes the world go 'round
|
| So 'round we go
|
| (Go)
|
| Bankrupt in a heatwave
|
| Saying things we don’t mean just to behave
|
| Heartache gets fucking boring
|
| When you lose the point and start performing
|
| I got a backbone built like driftwood
|
| Well travelled but you know I’m brittle
|
| I’m no use to me or you
|
| I’d happily be a shoulder on a cold train seat
|
| Be a body in a warm white sheet
|
| But that takes two
|
| I’m sober now
|
| My head is full of dark grey clouds
|
| Pussy makes the world go 'round
|
| So 'round we go
|
| I can’t keep warm
|
| I guess my baby’s out of luck x3
|
| Rain on the windshield making shadows on your face
|
| Hands in my pockets cos I don’t know what to say
|
| I’ll think of something, think of anything at all
|
| Pussy makes the world go 'round
|
| I know she’ll go x4 |