Song | A Decent Cup Of Tea |
Artist | Frank Turner |
Album | Sleep Is For The Week |
Download | Image LRC TXT |
It hadn抰 been a day when everything had turned out right br /> | |
She called me up and asked me to come over in the night, | |
To make her cups of tea and listen quietly as she starts | |
To list the latest list of bastards who have trampled on her heart. | |
I see her in the nightclubs, | |
I see her in the bars, | |
At rooftop after-parties, or crammed into friendscars, | |
And we talk about the weather, and how she drowns her pain in drink, | |
And I nod and never ever dare to tell her what | |
I think. She summers by my seas | |
But winters without me, | |
And she cries into her tea | |
That she抯 secretly lonely. | |
And oh me, what am | |
I to do? It抯 obvious to me, | |
But she never seems to see | |
That it抯 not about the days when everything has turned out right, | |
No it抯 more about the moments when she calls me in the night | |
To make her cups of tea and wash the weary worries from her head | |
And then to draw the pain out slowly as | |
I put her into bed. | |
And I slip this information | |
Into all our conversations | |
But she never seems to listen | |
And she never seems to see. |
It hadn yang been a day when everything had turned out right br | |
She called me up and asked me to come over in the night, | |
To make her cups of tea and listen quietly as she starts | |
To list the latest list of bastards who have trampled on her heart. | |
I see her in the nightclubs, | |
I see her in the bars, | |
At rooftop afterparties, or crammed into friends cars, | |
And we talk about the weather, and how she drowns her pain in drink, | |
And I nod and never ever dare to tell her what | |
I think. She summers by my seas | |
But winters without me, | |
And she cries into her tea | |
That she zha secretly lonely. | |
And oh me, what am | |
I to do? It zha obvious to me, | |
But she never seems to see | |
That it zha not about the days when everything has turned out right, | |
No it zha more about the moments when she calls me in the night | |
To make her cups of tea and wash the weary worries from her head | |
And then to draw the pain out slowly as | |
I put her into bed. | |
And I slip this information | |
Into all our conversations | |
But she never seems to listen | |
And she never seems to see. |
It hadn yāng been a day when everything had turned out right br | |
She called me up and asked me to come over in the night, | |
To make her cups of tea and listen quietly as she starts | |
To list the latest list of bastards who have trampled on her heart. | |
I see her in the nightclubs, | |
I see her in the bars, | |
At rooftop afterparties, or crammed into friends cars, | |
And we talk about the weather, and how she drowns her pain in drink, | |
And I nod and never ever dare to tell her what | |
I think. She summers by my seas | |
But winters without me, | |
And she cries into her tea | |
That she zhā secretly lonely. | |
And oh me, what am | |
I to do? It zhā obvious to me, | |
But she never seems to see | |
That it zhā not about the days when everything has turned out right, | |
No it zhā more about the moments when she calls me in the night | |
To make her cups of tea and wash the weary worries from her head | |
And then to draw the pain out slowly as | |
I put her into bed. | |
And I slip this information | |
Into all our conversations | |
But she never seems to listen | |
And she never seems to see. |