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Arctic Monkeys » Crying Lightning
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	Sat in the cafe by the cracker factory You were practicing a magic trick And my thoughts got rude, as you talked and chewed On the last of your pick and mix Said your mistaken if your thinking that I haven't been caught cold before As you bit into your strawberry lace And then a flip in your attention in the form of a gobstopper Is all you have left and it was going to waste Your past-times, consisted of the strange And twisted and deranged And I love that little game you had called Crying lightning And how you like to aggravate the ice-cream man on rainy afternoons The next time that I caught my own reflection It was on it's way to meet you Thinking of excuses to postpone You never look like yourself from the side But your profile did not hide The fact you knew I was approaching your throne With folded arms you occupy the bench like toothache Saw them, puff your chest out like you never lost a war And though I try so not to suffer the indignity of a reaction There was no cracks to grasp or gaps to claw And your past-times, consisted of the strange And twisted and deranged And I hate that little game you had called Crying lightning And how you like to aggravate the icky man on rainy afternoons Uninviting But not half as impossible as everyone assumes You are crying lightning Your past-times, consisted of the strange And twisted and deranged And I hate that little game you had called Crying lightning Crying lightning Crying lightning Crying lightning Your past-times, consisted of the strange And twisted and deranged And I hate that little game you had called Crying
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