Tuesday, 07 July 2009

• Currently Whatever People Say I Am, That's What I'm Not By Arctic Monkeys see related

  He Is A Sea Urchin

  He Is An Urchin
  
  The clock on the dresser said 3am,
  you were waking up from the previous night's events.
  The ones that took place in the backseat of a van,
  do you remember it?
  
  You started out looking for adventure,
  clutching a book about endeavors,
  you set out looking for a romance,
  found a boy who told you he could slow dance in a burning room.
  
  He was cunning enough to be charming,
  charming enough to be alarming,
  but you were caught up in his romance,
  romantic but not in a slow dance.
  
  He is much like a urchin,
  wrapped around your finger.
  Peeking through the bleachers,
  the peeping Tom of the arena.
  
  He is clearly a rascal,
  drew your name on his wall with a pastel crayon,
  just another name to cling on too.
  
  And you stroked his sideburns in the backseat of a car,
  fogged up the windows without the need for an explanation.
  The rascal had his way with you.
  
  He is much like an urchin wrapped around your finger.
  Peeking through the bleachers, the peeping Tom of the arena.
  And those girls that he found were not works of art like you,
  nobody reminds him of you, not that he ever cared.
  
  3am on a Sunday, made up your mind to come to the show after all.
  

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