|
You sleep like a kid with one hand stuck fast to the side of your face |
|
Backside in the air, mouth half open, but still filled with grace |
|
And you seem so happy as your skin turns the colour of a violet-golden sky |
|
And it cuts me up when we fight and go to bed facing opposite sides |
|
You're like gasoline |
|
You're like the willow tree |
|
You're like a split-screen |
|
But you're the green in me |
|
And you smoke when you're hurt or bored or out with friends, but I don't mind |
|
Who cares if the big 'C' comes? We're young, we're having some lovely times |
|
You frown as the clouds bring you down, drop to your knees and scream "Oh, my God" |
|
But you really shouldn't bother, there's bigger things going on |
|
you little sod, you little sod |
|
You're like gasoline |
|
You're like the willow tree |
|
You're like a split-screen |
|
But you're the green in me |
|
You're like gasoline |
|
You're like the willow tree |
|
You're like a split-screen |
|
But you're the green in me |
