Waiting for the seven eighteen January is endless Weary eyed and forlorn The Northern line is still ours
I've got nothing to add or contest Can still kick a ball a hundred yards We cling to bottles and memories of the past
Just give me moments Not hours or days Just give me moments
Grinding your teeth in the middle of the night The sadness of those molars Spend all your spare time trying to escape Daydreaming about the summertime
If I could do it again, I'd make more mistakes I'd not be so scared of falling If I could do it again, I'd climb more trees I'd pick and I'd eat more wild blackberries
Just give me moments Not hours or days Just give me moments
Let's drive to Brighton on the weekend |