It's a lethal ballet
Air traffic congestion
And someone's dancing on the box
A former MP
My oldest friends are a serious habit
Fly boy blue, so bring your faces home,
To my sweet trampoline
And acres of crash site love
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ooooooooh Lalalala Lalalala
What can be said of the cigarette smokes?
A prop for a joke or a mark on the clock
If I stopped would the bus ever come
Would the dawn ever kiss me, forgiven me, knowing what's done?
Would the drivel make scribble make sense and then song?
Would the woodbines denied like the northern man's thumbs?
Perverse as it may sound I sometimes believe
The tip to my lips just reminds me to breathe