[Gus Unger-Hamilton] There was a wayward lad Stepped out one morning The ground to be his bed The sky his awning
[Joe Newman] Neon, neon, neon A blue neon lamp in a midnight country field Can't surround so you lean on, lean on So much your heart's become fond of this
[Joe Newman + Gus Unger-Hamilton] Oh, these three worn words Oh, let me whisper like the rubbing hands Of tourists in Verona I just want to love you in my own language
[Joe Newman] Well, that smell of sex Good like burning wood The wayward lad laid claim To two thirsty girls from Hornsea Who left a note when morning came
[Ellie Rowsell] Girls from the pool say "Hi" (hi) The road erodes at five feet per year Along England's east coastline Was this your first time? Love is just a button we pressed Last night by the campfire
[Joe Newman + Ellie Rowsell] Oh, these three worn words Oh, that we whisper like the rubbing hands Of tourists in Verona I just want to love you in my own languageTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
