| Lyrics |
A morbid fascination with all things in extremes
A limited sport will leave its spot on me
Early in the morning, I've given up on sleep
I'm in the attention, but all I hear is my heart beat His spastic aspirations will make a man of me
Brought him for his playing, such sensitivity
Monsters of the present are the monsters of the past
Took a look in your lyric book, your head's right your arse It's unbelievable, the way you got it all, it seems improbable The inner city fauna is crying round your feet
I never really noticed how your eyebrows seemed to meet
In perpetual fear of being swallowed whole
Beached in the suburbs in the body of a whale
|