Winter dies in June - A workable thing | Текст песни

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• Winter dies in June
• A workable thing

Have you ever heard how to disappear
From the nothingness of your life filled with cheap thrills?
On the Central line
"Suburban" irritant
With that smell of fear,
& cabbage spicy garbage and "what's up kid?"
So...you gave yourself to dance, London owes you a chance
but your hair went grey you couldn't hold your nerve
In the river Thames
And you find yourself harmless, you find yourself floating away
In a paper cup
It was as short as it was brutal as it was ambitious as it was pure

Now you tread down the streets of King's Cross blue mascara
And a bag from Tesco
The drinking days so far away yeah the sorry tales
Can't run form your haunting story called "I've had my days of glory"
It's about the time your father died on a playing field

It comes to nothing but I'm still looking at your freckles & our lies
It comes to nothing but I'm still wondering the wonder of being alive
Cause I'm not allright

Your Beaujoulais is running out with red letters on the floor - you didn't show
It was as short as it was brittle, ever ambitious, our stupid joke

You like to talk about efficiency
All we have is a basis for a workable thing
You love to talk about efficiency
All we have is a minimum basis for a workable thing

Something's running in your veins and takes control over you
Something good and something dreary
If you ever fled the scene
If you ever felt the heat
It can't get any easier they say "what for" as you walk away
Your Dostoevskj sleeps tonight and all your literature is torn

You like to talk about efficiency
All you have is a basis for a workable thing

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