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It's always the same old song and dance
With the poor little rich kids
And their poor little idle hands
That pull apart your chest and bleed you dry
Just to see what it looks like
When somebody else cries
But I want it anyway

All the houses up on Primrose Hill
That I walked by from time to time
Sound like blue and lonesome whip-poor-wills
In the echoes of my mind
In the echoes of my mind

Was I just your existential crisis?
In the anorexic days
Of loving you blindly
We'd sleep all day and go out every night
As if the city of London
Couldn't get by without us
And your fair-weather friends
Couldn't find someone else
To get loaded up with
But I want it anyway

All the houses up on Primrose Hill
That I walked by from time to time
Sound like blue and lonesome whip-poor-wills
In the echoes of my mind
In the echoes of my mind

It's always the same old song and dance
With the poor little rich kids
And their poor little idle hands

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