1. |
The Drops
01:03
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Long division on the hill climb out of the saddle, every second stretches, every stroke is a battle, it seems as though if I could see myself as doing something right then I might try.
Downhill in the drops and both my eyes are swimming, topped out the cassette but still my legs are spinning, it seems as though if I could see myself as doing something right.
After work and on a Friday there's nothing I can think of but the ride home.
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2. |
Malteser
02:27
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Came home late and left cold outside, rather be half dead than this half alive. It's new year and you're here, but you've got nothing to talk about, there's nothing left to say and nothing left to do.
I didn't come in here to wind you up, but now I can't keep my mouth shut. She's saying shit about Alt J, I'm trying to keep a straight face, but I cracked and I cried "You couldn't be more of a cliché if you tried.", there's nothing left to say, get the fuck out of my room.
Now you've got two songs written about you.
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3. |
Checked Out
02:02
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I checked out, I check in. I've been down, I'm back in. I see the way you look at me, somehow I never seem to doubt. How can you read my mind?
I checked out, I check in. I've been down, I'm back in. I see the way you look at me, somehow I never seem to doubt. How can you read my mind?
I take and I take and there's no reciprocating, you're calm and so patient, turn me into you. How can you read my mind?
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4. |
Mantle
02:52
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You've been wondering where I've been, a blow too dull to break the skin, running just to be stood still, pushing your bike up the hill.
Rattling around my skull, it's more animal than mineral, holding onto everything that I'm trying to let go. But still you wait and still I'm cold, standing in your winter coat, looking at the rocks below, so rare yet so inert.
I am the crust you are the mantle. Shake down the plaster from that old wall.
I am the crust, you are the mantle to me, you shake me up, still I can't feel anything. You've been wondering where I've been, a blow too dull to break the skin, running just to be stood still, pushing your bike up the hill.
I am the crust you are the mantle. Shake down the plaster from that old wall. I am the crust you are the mantle. I'm the crust and you're the mantle, your bike up the hill.
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5. |
Sick Note
01:37
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Sleep in, another morning late, time's creeping, we're past the point-of-no return.
A sick note:
It's paracetamol, bed-rest, nothing traceable.
I'm just sick, it's nothing.
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