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• Artiste: Our Imaginary Friends
• Titre: Sour Grapes and Bellyaches
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Its Friday night, tonight you know, you've got to elevate yourself to a place I never go. Now all I feel are the cracks in the pavement, they trip me and hinder me as I try and get to you. With the pulsating of the music and the glare of the lights, I've fallen in love for the third time tonight. And to you this is all a big epiphany, There's nothing to love that I can see But, a bottle in you're hand, A Chip on you're shoulder. Come on and make me a man, Can you make a man out of me? Romance is bullshit it's for the vain oh, Those are the guidelines we stick too anyway. I wish I understood as quickly as you, A flick of the hair, a cynical glare. Its Friday night and the glare of the lights, Pulsating music, we're all falling in love again. Falling in love again with the sound and the lights. A Bottle in you're hand, A Chip on you're shoulder. Come on and make me a man, Can you make a man out of me? And we went to three bars that night, There were uniforms and the dancing was full on. Friday night, tonight you know, you've got to elevate yourself to a place I never go. Now all I feel are the cracks in the pavement, they trip me and hinder me as I try and get to you. With the pulsating of the music and the glare of the lights, I've fallen in love for the third time tonight. The third time tonight The third time tonight Third time tonight.