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I think we need more post-coital and less post-rockFeels like the build-up takes forever but you never get me offYou pull your dress over your face, and I stare down towards my chestChastise both our greasy hair, wonder whose gut is the softestStand with my ear to the door, listening to the landing floorboardsWorking out when we'll be safe, to dash from mattress to yr bathroomWhere I ball my fingers into fists until my knuckles glow bright whitePress the heels into eye-sockets 'til I see the flashing lightsStop me when my stories change, when they have started to repeat'Cause last time I was a mess of sleep of icy feetSo baby; all apologiesIt was going to happen, inevitably.Ohhh.I think we need more post-coital and less post-rockFeels like the build-up takes forever but you never touch my cockAnd what exactly do you mean now, by"what can you even eat? And how does that affect how I'll get off this evening?".I flew down south to Mexico, had a minor realisationI understood why kids draw the sun with its rays emanatingAnd the beams broke the clouds, the sky looked like a concertinaI'd sat on in my pocket for weeks, folded up from a pictureSongtexteI've been playing straight chicken with gay girls(It's never enough)She keeps on pulling the peace sign(And it seems like a taunt)She licked a glaze on her lips They shone like Battleship Grey She never liked the wisdom I gave:"Some people give themselves to religionSome people give themselves to a causeSome people give themselves to a loverI have to give myself to goals"So baby; all apologiesIt was going to happen, inevitablyAnd if it helps, I mean, even slightly at allIt's best to dust yourself down and get straight back on the horseI condescend a smile and wink directly at the cameraI leave you led in both our scents as I tip-toe out the backdoorI skid down icy streets and view my face in the reflectionOf a high street lingerie store though it wasn't my intentionI phone my friends and family to gather round the television;The talking heads count down the most heart-wrenching break ups of all timeImagine the great sense of waste, the indignity, the embarrassmentWhen not a single one of that whole century was... mine Aus Songtexte Mania