Arctic Monkeys – Sketchead

admin — Fri, 27 Nov 2009 15:48:00 +0000

Sketchead
He’s coming to your party
He’s walking up your drive
And he’s swinging all his keys round
Sketchead
He’s seen you with your top off
He already knows your boyfriend
retain your introductions
Sketchead
That cunts a protagonist
The pips in your quince
They are behind the spoil
The itch you can’t itch in your ear
And the knock that shattered your packet of peppermints

Sketchead
There’s poison in his spit
He’ll compliment your tits
And leave you to your wits
Sketchead
Convincingly insisting the tyres were bald
when you gave him the car
Sketchead
Still coming to your party
Still walking up your drive
And still swinging all his keys round on his finger
As a pendulum to un nerve

And then there’s you
You’ve changed
I approach you like you were the same
But soon it was apparent a new name was required
New lips went and fired accomplishments at me
While I’m captivated by your magazine skin
The tint on your limbs is obscures to begin
And you know full well
That anyone who says that
They don’t prefer the sequel
Will still be swinging on themselves tonight

Arctic Monkeys – Crying Lightning

admin — Wed, 12 Aug 2009 21:55:59 +0000

Outside the cafe by the cracker factory
You were practicing a magic trick
And my thoughts got rude, as you talked and chewed
On the last of your pick and mix

Said your mistaken if your thinking that I haven’t been caught cold before
As you bit into your strawberry lace
And then a flip in your attention in the form of a gobstopper
Is all you have left and it was going to waste

Your past-times, consisted of the strange
And twisted and deranged
And I love that little game you had called
Crying lightning
And how you like to aggravate the ice-cream man on rainy afternoons

The next time that I caught my own reflection
It was on it’s way to meet you
Thinking of excuses to postpone
You never look like yourself from the side
But your profile did not hide
The fact you knew I was approaching your throne

With folded arms you occupy the bench like toothache
Saw them, puff your chest out like you never lost a war
And though I try so not to suffer the indignity of a reaction
There was no cracks to grasp or gaps to claw

And your past-times, consisted of the strange
And twisted and deranged
And I hate that little game you had called
Crying lightning
And how you like to aggravate the icky man on rainy afternoons

Uninviting
But not half as impossible as everyone assumes
You are crying lightning

Your past-times, consisted of the strange
And twisted and deranged
And I hate that little game you had called
Crying lightning
Crying lightning
Crying lightning
Crying lightning

Your past-times, consisted of the strange
And twisted and deranged
And I hate that little game you had called
Crying

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Arctic Monkeys – Sketchead

Arctic Monkeys – Crying Lightning