Song Lyrics

I fried my head, I'm not a brunette
I'm a down and dusky blonde
I am living in a tree
When I lie in bed I see
Beyond my lover's head the moon, I hear the rain

I am conscious of my voice as a tool
It's more demure
Than your friend the singing queen
With her matinee good looks
She talks like talking from a book
I speak the language of my village, of my street

But I need a friend and I choose you
I tell you the way I feel
The truth is crushing like a heel
I will forget the kiss and feel if you will too

Tell me tales of punk rockin' girls
It's a dim and distant page
But I mostly blame my age
Please make allowances for me
I do not see

It's a drag that you're getting old
I love to think about the year
When we sobbed and then we cheered
The town deserted like a film
The sun was baking dust for fun
Trees were withering by the day
Your torso crushing me
Into the country and the tunnels and the fields

But I need a friend and I choose you
I tell you the way I feel
The truth is crushing like a heel
I will forget the kiss and feel if you will do

I read a book a day, like an apple
But I did not eat
And so the doctor came to me
He said a woman does not live
By the printed word
Forgive yourself and eat

Autumn sped along outside
Trick photography on speed
I was locked inside a room
They made a deal, they would control
The simple things like bodies
But I kept my soul

When I needed someone I chose you
Because the fledgling soul awakes
And on the balcony she quakes
And she is waiting for the sign
And when the brother does not come
And when the sister's much to you, she chooses you

Stuart Murdoch