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Tell Me That You Weren't Alone

๐Ÿ‘ค The Wave Pictures โ€ข ๐ŸŽผ Look Inside Your Heart โ€ข โฑ๏ธ 5:53
๐ŸŽต 2372 characters
โฑ๏ธ 5:53 duration
๐Ÿ†” ID: 27902893

๐Ÿ“œ Lyrics

In the soft green folds of a tent
In shadow in the yard
Bobby made his way
Like a spider to Clarice's arms
See them moving
Eight little feet at once

Outside a small child rides
High up on the spine of an express train
In the netting with the luggage
In the stuttering rain
Everything rattles
Like maracas filled with teeth

In the movie house it's crammed with teens
Full of beans, all a little bitter
Brittle-boned goalkeepers
Computer geeks, asthmatic babysitters
Whilst a chainsaw glides
Through the super-sized face of the unknown actress

Taking coffee at three in the square
Men with combed-over hair
Baldly lie about the actress
The teacher, the nurse, the au pair
Slipping nips of whiskey in their coffee
To ease away last night's drunk

And in the shadow of the graffiti-covered
Cinema back doors
A cat fits the sooty head
Of a city pigeon in its jaws
And guiltlessly makes his way away with it
Back into the sunlight

Here comes Mary Laffery
Walking up the street
With a hundred greasy, cheesy, easy disciples
At her perfect little feet
She looks like the bass player
Of an obscure French rock band

Tell me
That you weren't alone
Tell me
That you weren't alone
Tell me
Tell me that you weren't alone

Outside the stadium
Bootleg stores and hotdog stands bloom like flowers
Digital watches in a trunk slowly lose hold of the hours
And a sweet cloud of mustard frying onions swells like a balloon

Behind the boiler room
A workman blows a pink bubble of gum
Before returning to the wriggling, nagging problem
Of the splinter in his thumb
And the worry of the wedding at the weekend
Waiting for him after work

The collarbone of a girl guide
Pops clean out of her chest with a crack
Her bicycle rolls on past her
Where a loose brick threw
Pitched her head first on the track
And the pain and the surprise
Leave her temporarily speechless
Temporarily speechless

Downtown, a busker
With hash-cake breath
Plays "The Death of Clayton Peacock"
And makes two pounds and fifty-three pence
So he plays it repeatedly for the next
Two and one half hours

Tell me
That you weren't alone
Tell me
That you weren't alone
Tell me
Tell me that you weren't alone
Tell me that you weren't alone
Tell me that you weren't alone
Tell me that you weren't alone
Tell me that you weren't alone
Tell me that you weren't alone
Tell me that you weren't alone
Tell me that you weren't alone

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