Well we're here

We're at the common again

Smoked six of the ten fags that

I only bought an hour ago

Said well I

I like the look of your shoes

I like the way that your face looks when

I'm arguing with you

And so when, when we all grow old

I hope this song will remind you that

I'm not half as bad as what

You've been told

And when I knock

At one hundred and two

And I see your pyjamas

I can't stop smiling at you

And that's why we're here

We're at the common again

I've been pouring my heart out

Towards your optimistic grin

Said well I, I

I like the cut of your jib

I like the way that your face looks

When you're yapping on about him

But on this shirt

I found your smell

And I just sat there for ages

Contemplating what to do with myself

I called you up

At one hundred and two

We just sat there for ages

Talking about that boy

What was getting onto you

You