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• Artiste: Plans And Apologies
• Titre: Self Help
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Inner city something with a song Darling things are going strange, going wrong Picture of seven year-old smile Withers like the man with pervert bench And we aren't seven anymore If that is me then who am I? Darling, what have I become? If my skin and bones will rot Is my mind all that's left when I'm gone? It's strange, it's wrong Self help tendencies, growing tenderness I am trapped against my will I met a girl at the Old Orleans We had spicy chicken wings We talked about so many things Like We went to a bar when the meal was through I had a drink, she had a few I asked her what she'd like to do She said I bought plane tickets and we flew away We did some things along the way But what they were, I couldn't say They were If my mind is all that's left to leave, In the future in the dark I'll grieve In this social scene surrender To the bones too long, too frail and tender Seven is a number not remembered