A song all about Summer 2011:
Lyrics:
A warm hand outstretched from the duvet painted gold by the street light.
“Give me your skin” it says. “Give me your skin”. Pull back your hood and let me in.
You’re not going anywhere. You’re not going anywhere tonight. You’re all mine.
Because I’d go ‘Sunday’ under you.
Get that girl to Tiffany’s and buy the biggest rock and roll the ‘What’s inside’s all yours’.
I said “Instead you’d have to settle for a Gretna trip in cheap hotel, with jelly rings and rags upon my toes.”
But you’d have music everywhere you go.
Look at me I’m no David’s Statue, I know.
But I spill all these words like the paint from my soul.
I’m Dali and you are The Persistence of Memory.
The problem with real art is high attraction, but low rates.
I sell my soul with nought to show for the blood and sweat I waste.
Fit the pieces. Fill the holes. Her hand the lock. The key: your hold. Our skin: a place for warmth to hide. Our grip a place for faith to hide.
Because I went ‘Sunday’ under you.
Get that girl to Tiffany’s and buy the biggest rock and roll the ‘What’s inside’s all yours’.
I said “Instead you’d have to settle for a Gretna trip in cheap hotel, with jelly rings and rags upon my toes.”
But you’d have music everywhere you go.
Don’t kill this feeling.