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• Artiste: Sunny Intervals
• Titre: Hollyoaks
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So I walk the city streets, Eastgate, Northgate, Watergate up to the Bridge And the city walls that always hemm me in The book I'm reading has lost appeal The galleries and ice hockey don't grab me at all I've lost interest in the things I shared with you And how can I sit through an episode of Hollyoaks when I know it's somehow incomplete without your running commentary? And how can I find the joy in 80s pop music when the whole disposable façade relies on sing-alongs with someone else? And every evening without fail, we'd browse the Evening Leader or the Chronicle And take comfort in the things that pass as news But where's the fun in current affairs with no accomplice here to share the satire with It's just a trivial page of local news And how can I dream up ill-advised new recipes, when I know the sole enjoyment lied in laughing at our shared mistakes And where does the excitement lie in tasting all the Tesco wines, when I know despite my best attempts, I'll never quite keep up with them alone And the high street's painted black and white Like the architects predicted nothing to celebrate And nothing to write home about tonight And the railways station's closing down And the trams don't run here anymore And I've ground to a halt With nothing to write home about tonight Save for the words, that you said "I can only disappoint you" That's perceptive, I'm sure Except I've heard it before Local boy who made good Then left town For a flat by the river With a Chateau Neuf Du Pape And a box set of dreams That came through early doors