Letra

(Check it out now) Rushing out of Kings Cross station Spilling to the glow of Darlinghurst Road Underneath the Coke sign(?) Hidden in the hip-folk Right rhythm, white lights and the bouncers inviting me to strip shows I was 17 with the face of 15 Carried my skateboard with me to the slipstream You could be the king of the Cross or just sightseeing Or take flight from the lime light like me My brother ran a nightclub playing Hip-hop In a club called Late Girls Once upon a time it was owned by Ed Saffron Long way from Oasis to the underworld He would sneak me in before ten when the doors open On the dance-floor dark and scared And the bartender knew I wasn't legal But was pretending I wasn't there I was about to learn These girls in knee length socks did not dance like I did Did not dance indie, kid Did not dance like me In Fred Berry shirts these guys did not dance like I did Did not dance Brit-pop, kid (Check this out) Did not dance like me What ya, what ya, what ya want? By 12 with the party proper kickin' Room full of Alvins, Cockers and Frenchman(?) 'Couple Liam Browns and they're dancing to The Smiths And there I am in the middle of the dance floor pissed Showing off my running man Shake it like Q-tip And even apple-bottom Like I was on some new shit Proper etiquette Hide it, shield it But scream indelicate(?) Don't fight it, feel it Indie girls dance like quirky little penguins There she goes, fell in love and afraid to befriend him I wish she could've told him that love swayed Or the way she swung her hands by her sides like rollerblades Could've put a British accent on Pashed her in the chorus of a catchy song, yeah With the charm of a trashy Pom, I'm like: 'Hello love wanna snog?' These girls in knee length socks did not dance like I did Did not dance indie, kid Did not dance like me In Fred Berry shirts these guys did not dance like I did Did not dance Brit-pop, kid Did not dance like me So what ya, what ya, what ya want? Grab my skateboard from the cloak room Found Kings Cross with her legs wide open What kind of trouble could a kid get his nose in When the best of the * is * as part of Sydney blows in I was never caught by the 'fuzz' When I was on a buzz A bit before I dabbled with drugs Pills, thrills, belly aches, * and * Whatever it takes to medicate, please this week, uh I did a bit I admit I wasn't not innocent I didn't fit in but I felt magnificent Banging in my eardrums differently Like I got a new set of antennas for me there just to listen(?) I look back, realise what it meant to me Why I write hooks and melodies I'm part of their legacy, but I never did get her next to me I guess that was for the best God damn These girls in knee length socks did not dance like I did Did not dance indie, kid Did not dance like me In Fred Berry shirts these guys did not dance like I did Did not dance Brit-pop, kid Did not dance like me (So what ya, what ya, what ya want?) These girls in knee length socks did not dance like I did Did not dance indie, kid Did not dance like me In Fred Berry shirts these guys did not dance like I did Did not dance Brit-pop, kid Did not dance like me (So what ya, what ya, what ya want?)
Writer(s): Philip Norman, Angus Stuart, Luke Dubber, Timohty Levinson Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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