She said sing me a sad song,

Something relatable and helpful, that I can move on from

She’s my sleeping sickness, got me strung up like the Brooklyn Bridge

(my bones) like dynamite sticks and I am critically unstable

My body’s radium sick,

She must be radioactive,

Hers are page turning lips,

And I’m just a passage that won’t be turned away

Wrote no poet, ever, 'if I’m under the weather then you better be the rain on my parade'

Forget her, you thought things would get better but they clearly stayed the same.

Drawn out like clouds and constellations, I’m concussed and seeing stars,

From lighthouse to power station, I don’t care where you are.

She makes me pray

For electric fucking fences and sex in empty houses

She won’t give it away

For all the rain in England or all the gold in Spain

My body’s radium sick

She must be radioactive

Hers are page turning lips

And I’m just a passage that won’t be turned away

Wrote no poet, ever, if I’m under the weather then you better be the rain on my parade

Forget her, you thought things would get better but they clearly stayed the same

Drawn out like clouds and constellations, I’m concussed and seeing stars

From lighthouse to power station I don’t care where you are

Wrote no poet, ever, if I’m under the weather then you better be the rain on my parade

Forget her, you thought things would get better but they clearly stayed the same

Drawn out like clouds and constellations, I am concussed and seeing stars

From lighthouse to power station I don’t care where you are, I don't care where you are.