We’re at the common again
Smoked six of the ten fags that
I only bought an hour ago
Said well I
I like the look of your shoes
I like the way that your face looks when
I’m arguing with you
And so when, when we all grow old
I hope this song will remind you that
I’m not half as bad as what
You’ve been told
And when I knock
At one hundred and two
And I see your pyjamas
I can’t stop smiling at you
And that’s why when
We’re at the common again
I’ve been pouring my heart out
Towards your optimistic grin
Said well I, I
I like the cut of your jib
I like the way that your face looks
When you’re yapping on about him
But on this shirt
I found your smell
And I just sat there for ages
Contemplating what to do with myself
Called you up
At one hundred and two
We just sat there for ages
Talking about that boy
What was getting onto you
You
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