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• Artiste: Parenthetical Girls
• Titre: The Common Touch
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I came out of my mother Renowned for compounding numbers, Came out of my mother With a head blessed with figures And with yours now above me Both long and unlovely I think we can safely say Such sums must become me A kiss as disingenuous as this You know what I am So let's not pretend Your short on grace But you've an empty space And I fit just right Yes, I fill just right... Right Right I came out of my mother As pure as power You're delicious and desperate And god knows where your dress went Still smug and smart Well bless your precious heart Would I stay the night? Might I stay the night... Forgive me if I Respectfully decline 'Cause there's just no time And I've got my pride While wealth and waste may breed expensive taste It's true what they say Take pleasure from the simple things You pass along the way Should fortunes fade--of course they do recede We feign no feinted praise, But pity not the pretty things You break along the way There's pleasure in the simple things you break Take pleasure from the simple things you break