I restored your mother's faith in men whilst boring you to death,
Left nothing more than the circle of stubble rash around your chest.
My life was saved by a packet of
Nineteen cigarettes carried in my left breast pocket, for a closest friend.
A sleeping bag on the floor twists hips like buffalo horns,
They said "that boy is too lazy" you were clearly forewarned.
A jealous ex silenced the room, he said that you were a whore;
"do you kiss your mummy's lips with that mouth?".
She imagined everything I said in falsetto;
The only way to justify my childish despair.
I spent my last six fifty in a public phone box,
(graffited genitalia from the ceiling to the floor)
Played reckless, rapid like a fruit machine.
I see gargoyles in the floral of the duvet cover,
You see melodrama move from one sentence to the other.
Many years practice of speaking in hushed tones.
Los Campesinos! - Documented Minor Emotional Breakdown #1 Lyrics
Los Campesinos! - Documented Minor Emotional Breakdown #1 Lyrics
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I restored your mother's faith in men whilst boring you to death,
Left nothing more than the circle of stubble rash around your chest.
My life was saved by a packet of
Nineteen cigarettes carried in my left breast pocket, for a closest friend.
A sleeping bag on the floor twists hips like buffalo horns,
They said "that boy is too lazy" you were clearly forewarned.
A jealous ex silenced the room, he said that you were a whore;
"do you kiss your mummy's lips with that mouth?".
She imagined everything I said in falsetto;
The only way to justify my childish despair.
I spent my last six fifty in a public phone box,
(graffited genitalia from the ceiling to the floor)
Played reckless, rapid like a fruit machine.
I see gargoyles in the floral of the duvet cover,
You see melodrama move from one sentence to the other.
Many years practice of speaking in hushed tones.
Left nothing more than the circle of stubble rash around your chest.
My life was saved by a packet of
Nineteen cigarettes carried in my left breast pocket, for a closest friend.
A sleeping bag on the floor twists hips like buffalo horns,
They said "that boy is too lazy" you were clearly forewarned.
A jealous ex silenced the room, he said that you were a whore;
"do you kiss your mummy's lips with that mouth?".
She imagined everything I said in falsetto;
The only way to justify my childish despair.
I spent my last six fifty in a public phone box,
(graffited genitalia from the ceiling to the floor)
Played reckless, rapid like a fruit machine.
I see gargoyles in the floral of the duvet cover,
You see melodrama move from one sentence to the other.
Many years practice of speaking in hushed tones.
Writer: ALEKSANDRA BERDITCHEVSKAIA, OLIVER BRIGGS, TOM BROMLEY, HARRIET COLEMAN, GARETH PAISEY, NEIL ASHLEY TURNER, ELLEN WADDELL
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Performed By: Los Campesinos!
Written by: ALEKSANDRA BERDITCHEVSKAIA, OLIVER BRIGGS, TOM BROMLEY, HARRIET COLEMAN, GARETH PAISEY, NEIL ASHLEY TURNER, ELLEN WADDELL