When I come home it will be with, someone else's blood on my shirt
Another county's dirt on the knees of my ripped jeans
And I won't wanna talk about it.
What you prise from 'tween my fingers,
That the devil speaks in Scottish brogue, a love life under two shadows.
But you don't wanna talk about it.
The bus stands still, the landscape scrolls right by
(I love you more than ever)
Dual carriageway and landfill line both sides
(I love you more than ever)
Something verdant, something blooming, something golden, something dead.
Cut into uneven quarters, all four seasons in my head.
And when I lay you down we'll be beneath,
(I love you more than ever)
duck feather duvet, new clean cotton sheets.
(I love you more than ever)
Something verdant, something blooming, something golden, something dead.
Cut into uneven quarters, all four seasons in my head.
Something verdant, something blooming, something golden, something dead.
Cut into uneven quarters, all four seasons in my head.
Something verdant, something blooming, something golden, something dead.
Cut into uneven quarters, all four seasons in my head.
As you bathe the stains from my skin
Only dirt is washed away, cos all the bad lays far more deep
Please, I don't wanna talk about it.