Well we're here,
We're at the common again,
Smoked six of the 10 fags
That I only bought an hour ago
Said well I,
I like the look of your shoes
I like the way that your face looks
when I'm arguing with you
And so when
When we all grow old
I hope that this song will remind you
That I'm not half as bad as what you've been told
When I knock
at a hundred and two
And I see your pyjamas
I can't stop smiling at you
And that's why we're here
we're at the common again
I've been pouring my heart out
towards your optimistic grin
Said well I, I
I like the cut of your jib
I like the way that your face looks
when you're yapping on about him
But on this shirt
I found your smell
I just sat there for ages
contemplating what to do with myself
called you up at a hundred and two
we just sat there for ages
what was getting onto you, you