Friday morning, cigarette in hand and wipe away the hard-earned sleep
Fresh coffee, burnt plastic and technicolor drapery
Visit museums that smell of strawberry jam and hold my hand so gently
On the bridge I hear the great brass band playing melody so sweetly
Looking strange when walking side by side
The spectrum punk and the Pre-Raphelite
Strolling around like we own the city
No care who stares, just happy in our faggotry
Being here's so strange because I'm never one to step outside
Wiping fear from the edges as you're here and picking tulips to pass the time
Laughing at the bustle of the city and getting drunk at the riverside
Laying back, relaxed and soaking up the neon sunshine
If we're telling the truth
We're feeling old in our youth
We're pointing out what we'd fix right into the night
Barely sober- putting the world to rights
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