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• Artiste: Gift Horse Mouth
• Titre: Cold
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Lit a fire this morning, Then the fire lit me, Failed to see in my anguish, The irony. Spoke to a stranger this evening, She swore she'd seen me before, I didn't know her from Adam, Life's a chore. So take the hand of the person stood to your left, All linked, now raise them in the air, And swaying to and fro, this celebration, Will leave you cold. So, so cold. I started a revolution, Then revolting started me, Failed to see in that prison cell, The irony. The law's keeping an eye on me, So I keep an eye on the law, We're each wasting an eye suspecting, Life's a chore. So take the hand of the person stood to your left, All linked, now raise them in the air, And swaying to and fro, this celebration, Will leave you cold. So, so cold. Life has sometimes fucked me, And that's the irony, 'Cos I'm a cut-rate male whore, Life's a chore. So take the hand of the person stood to your left, All linked, now raise them in the air, And swaying to and fro, this celebration, Will leave you cold. So, so cold.