los campesinos!: hold on now, youngster
you! me! dancing!
The beats, yeah, they were coming out the speakers
And were winding up straight in your sneakers.
And I'm dancing like every song he spins is bis or like
Like all my dance heroes would if they existed.
And it's sad that you think that they're all just scenesters
(And even if we were it's not the scene you're thinking of)
To taking props from like these boy band fashions
All crop tops and testosterone passion.
If there's one thing that I could never confess,
It's that I can't dance a single step.
It's you!
It's me!
And there's dancing!
Not sure if you mind if I dance with you,
But I don't think right now that you care about anything at all.
And oh, if only there were clothes on the floor,
I'd feel for certain I was bedroom dancing.
And it's all flailing limbs at the front line.
Every single one of us is twisted by design
And dispatches from the back of my mind
Say as long as we're here everything is alright.
If there's one thing that I could never confess,
It's that I can't dance a single step.
It's you!
It's me!
And there's dancing!
death to los campesinos!
You've been broken down I go
(war economy)
father führer, don't be mad at me
peasant child, you're into botany
splitting necks and calling the dichotomy
"BEWARE" the sign on the door suggests -
I'm better off with artificial intelligence
I invented you
(I invented you)
AND I WILL DESTROY YOU.
If you catch me with my hands in the till
I promise, sugar, I wasn't trying to steal
I'm just swimming in copper
to smell and pretend
like a robot!
Well, if a leopard doesn't change it's spots
you can't change my perceptions just from dots to dots
i swap the bruising for a bumping sensation
i'll be ctrl-alt-deleting your face with no reservations
I will stop flighting once your circuit board's igniting
singing, "I'M NOT FINISHED, I'M NOT FINISHED! No!"
Mistaking cables for veins can be quite misleading,
friction sparks the metal made it look like bleeding
If you catch me with my hands in the till
I promise, sugar, I wasn't trying to steal
i'm just swimming in copper
to smell and pretend
like a robot!
broken heartbeats sound like breakbeats
One! Two! Three! Four!
One! Two! Three! Four!
Any more tears for the perfect?
Pulled by his chart directly into misery
Kiss him in the face with no lips and no tongue
But with your little, middle, index and ring fingers
Singing I see songs in shapes and colours
Like nuclear physics or pottery ovens
Fluid lines that soar like towers
Patterns that form just like child actors
Put your hand right by my spine (?)
Replace it with a UV light
So I can be the beacon of hope that you'd always expected
These constant broken heartbeats sound like breakbeats
They beat round and round to me
You know he's so much more like Spiderman than you will ever, ever be
So stick with your instincts
Stick with the imprints
With the hieroglyphics that the fan club sent us
A roll with the toppers
The sly steady choppers
Bat it with your eyelids
And lose it with your static
Go b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b - hey!
I'm taking far too many chances
On these less than idealistic romances
Put your hand right by my spine
Replace it with a UV light
So I can be the beacon of hope that you'd always expected
These constant broken heartbeats sound like breakbeats
They beat round and round to me
You know he's so much more like Spiderman than you will ever, ever be.
dont tell me to do the math(s)
We know that we could sell your magazines
If only you would give your life to literature just
Don't read Jane Eyre!
Work on your algebra
And stand out in the rain
And give yourself to simple pleasures but
Never play card games!
Meanwhile, back at home
Not in Communist Russia
Well only on my headphones
We plot our march onto the town hall
And if we’d take prisoners
Or simply simper at those fools
Please don’t tell me to do the math
Please don’t tell me to do the math
Tonight we’re gonna smash this place up
And then we’re gonna deck it out with fairy lights till
We are content!
And then we’ll maybe drown in Dewey decimal
But leave our shoes off at the door ‘cause
That was the point!
Of us at home with the moon
Pouring through the curtains
Working on our attitude
Towards the second hand book shop employees
Reading the inscriptions
That were never meant for their eyes
Please don’t tell me to do the math
Please don’t tell me to do the math
Please don’t tell me to do the math
Please don’t tell me to do the math
I’m stitching up each one of your pockets
So when we are together you’ll maybe look a little less bored
I’m sticking your fingers into sockets
To kick-start your little heart and maybe sleep a tiny bit more
Oh maybe we should read more into the books that we adore
Perhaps we should drink less vitamin C
And now I’m shouting out in capital letters
drop it doe eyes
You expected my war diaries, but time ran out and I, I let you down
Small thanks now written in French is no shorthand for this thing gave me writer's cramp
Another dream about shapeshifting
Well we move with such elegance, with such grace
With all our dignity just in place
Deer die with their eyes wide open, eyes wide open, eyes wide open
Deer die with their eyes wide open
Drawing tiny little pictures of skeletons to get across the sense of impending doom
And the leaves... major leagues (?) look like the foxes on the hard shoulder
And for some reason I think that I have drifted from the story to the bypass of the town I have visited, so go step back and track for all the sighs we'd ever sighed
Deer die with their eyes wide open, eyes wide open, eyes wide open
Deer die with their eyes wide open
Drawing tiny little pictures of skeletons to get across the sense of impending doom and I am 17 pages through this notebook now and there are little more than pictures of how I see you in an X-ray machine
It's more like a television screen
And you're in a rut, and I know that you know what I mean
And then the realisation hits that not even two dozen choirs could save us now
Turn up on your doorstep
Feeling like roadkill
Tasting like postage stamps
(?)
I could live alone
With everything I ever wrote
Pouring out of your mouth.
my year in lists
You said "send me stationary to make me horny"
So I always write you letters in multicolours
Decorating envelopes for foreplay
Damn extended metaphors, I get carried away
On the back of a natural disaster, fixed with parcel tape and with kids sticking plasters
Nothing says 'I miss you' quite like the poetry carved in your door with a stanley knife
My year in lists
Stomping on your fingers as you're clinging on to the abyss
So put on every winter coat that you've owned since '98
And every midnight since the count turned to another awful day
I cherish with fondness the day (before) I met you
I cherish with fondness the day (before) I met you
I cherish with fondness the day (before) I met you
On your request, I compile a list
Of my top five resolutions for this year (one!)
I declined 'cause I decided that I (two!) did not believe in the new year anymore (three!)
And I must confess that at times like these hopefulness is tantamount to hopelessness (four!)
And I accept that it's time for a change but not in places like this with people like these (five! five! five! five! five!)
My year in lists
Stomping on your fingers as you're clinging on to the abyss
So put on every winter coat that you've owned since '98
And every midnight that the count turned to another awful day
I cherish with fondness the day (before) I met you
I cherish with fondness the day (before) I met you
I cherish with fondness the day (before) I met you.
knee deep at ATP
And every sentence that I spoke began and ended in ellipsis
Each of eight fingers gripping what he wrote, clung on tightly, like parenthesis
And for each correctly used apostrophe, I could feel my heart sink inside my chest in front of me
So, maybe the lining of a winter's coat mightn't be the best place to hide a summer secret
Said every photo that you took that festival got lost in your camera in an insurance scam
And though underexposed, i could see from the quality, his K Records t-shirt and you holding his hand
And I know he took you to the beach, I can tell from how you bite on your cheek, every time the sand falls from your insoles
And when our eyes meet, all that I can read, is "you're the b-side".
I said it's not what you like, it's what you're like as a person,
Well, I need new hobbies, that's one thing for certain
Not what you like, but what you're like as a person,
Well, I need new hobbies, that's one thing for certain.
this is how you spell. “hahaha, we destroyed the hopes and dreams of a generation of faux-romantics”
I hate the stench of coffee on your breath
And I hate to feel it's warmth against my neck
And what right do you have to have nightmares about me
When all I wanted was to sleep?
We have to take the car 'cause the bike's on fire
We cannot trust your friends 'cause they were born liars
And if...
Cease, and desist!
I left your shallow skin and a note on your kitchen sideboard
It read "I have left you, please never try to find me"
This is no existential crisis, just turn your pain into piety
And then set your alarm clock for 4am the next morning
We have to take the car 'cause the bike's on fire
We cannot trust your friends 'cause they were born liars
And if you...
Cease, and desist!
This is how you spell 'HAHAHA, I've destroyed the hopes and the dreams of a generation of faux-romantics, and I'm pleased"
I'm pleased
You walk in from your mother's balcony
Panda-eyed and freezing cold
You bury yourself in my chest to warm
I notice the goosebumps on your arms, millions
And whether it's because of the numbers of hours spent laid facedown on my bed listening to white noise, or, well, obviously it's not, I somehow manage to translate them from braille
The trails on your skin spoke more to me than the reams and reams of half finished novels you'd leave lying all over the place
And every quotation that'd dribble from your mouth like a final, fatal livejournal entry
I know
I am wrong
I am sorry
We have to take the car 'cause the bike's on fire
We cannot trust your friends 'cause they were born liars
And if you...
Cease, and desist!
This is how you spell "HAHAHA I've destroyed the hopes and dreams of a generation of faux-romantics, and I'm pleased"
I'm pleased.
we are all accelerated readers
I was sick in my mouth because of the fear of the scent of the next girlfriend
And there were conversations about what Breakfast Club character you'd be
I'd be the one that dies (no one dies)
Well then what's the point?
You should have built have a statue, and so I did of you
And you were ungrateful, and slightly offended at the dimensions of the thing
You said you looked less like the Venus de Milo, and more like your mother in a straightjacket
I think it's great that you're doing fine now, but enough is enough
And I've had enough
Since we became accelerated readers, we never leave the house
You should have built a wall
You should have built a wall
And I'm not Bonnie Tyler, and I'm not Toni Braxton
And this song is not gonna save your relationship
Oh, that's shit
And this sentimental movie marathon has taught us one thing
It's the opposite of true love is as follows-
Reality!
You should have built a wall, not a bridge
(Since we became accelerated readers, we never leave the house)
You should have built a wall, not a bridge
Since we became accelerated readers, we never leave the house
Since we became accelerated readers, we never leave the house.
... and we exhale and roll our eyes in unison
It's bad enough you ever used the word as an adjective
But to suggest we do it in heels is really quite crass
And frankly, we're reasonably practical
And we know the benefits of always doing these things in flats
And I spent the last seven years perched on the edge of my bed
Scratching 'I am incredibly sincere' into my forearm
You should know better
A fifteen year old's a notorious lazy innuendo
(The last man standing is a girl)
Four sweaty boys with guitars tell me NOTHING about my life
And the earth's air pressure gets far greater when I hear you
You should try harder
It takes an educated guess to see I like you a little at best
And if you've come here for the faces then you leave under duress
And you still treat it like a novelty
This pop concert by virtue
And we exhale, and roll our eyes in unison
And we exhale
And we roll our eyes
And we do these things in unison
And woe is me
And woe is you
And woe is us, together
And woe is me
And woe is you
And woe is us, together.
sweet dreams, sweet cheeks
When the smaller picture
is the same as the bigger picture
you know that you're fucked
And you're trading paper cuts for splinters
you're out of luck
Like sharks don't sleep
and I don't take my eyes off you
The architecture's shit
and my cheeks are all ready and bruised
And it hurts as hard as a blow to the head
or a smash to the skull or a knee to your chest
And sweet dreams sweet cheeks
o tomorrow o tomorrow
All these mercy killings have got my conscience spinning over (taking advantage)
And the buildings or neighborhood is lacking in soul character (Psychology montage)
We're burning five story buildings laying man traps at the fire exits
Playing feedback over tan oi systems
You look Desperate! You look Pathetic!
And it hurts as hard as a blow to the head
or a smash to the skull or a knee to your chest x3
And sweet dreams sweet cheeks
o tomorrow o tomorrow
And it hurts as hard as a blow to the head
or a smash to the skull or a knee to your chest
And sweet dreams sweet cheeks
o tomorrow o tomorrow
One blink for yes Two blinks for no.
Sweet Dreams sweet cheeks we leave alone x10
the year punk broke my heart