The Astor

The explosions in the dark, on the Astor Cinema screen

Are like the inside of your head

You used to smile strange and say maybe that’s why

You liked to be with me in there

And that film you used to love, set in the 19th century

You said I looked like Etta Place, you said she laughed a lot like me

Every time they died (It would always end the same, and) you would always say

For a moment there I thought we were in trouble

That wild look in your eyes

That you don’t know how to explain

We kissed in the car while it came down outside

The world is coming apart

It’s just a holy mess, babe

It’s just a holy mess, babe

It’s 2 am on a Saturday night and we’re standing on a street littered with

Bear bottles and cigarettes and kids hell bent on getting free (losing their minds)

I’m squeezing your hand you pretend it doesn’t hurt you understand 

You always fucking understood but you never fucking told me what was

Going on inside you but you guide me through the drunken crowd you’re 

Never scared of anything except the one thing you can’t outrun 

That mystery inside your heart, that burning question in the dark

That mystery inside your heart

And now I understand what you meant about time

And how the big joke of it all is the grand (most) beautiful rhyme

Yeah it’s laughing at us now, it’s slapping its knee

As I stumble round trying to work out how to live without you here beside me