Cold white sky like milk this morning
Sirens flash like Christmas lights
Behind every window, someone's alive
My eyes are too sore, though; the days are too bright
The wall is too tall to sit on without swaying
The day is too new to be over for ages
All over this city people are hungry
For things that they don't know the names of

It's all just bricks and lights and bodies
Muscles twitching, heads snap back; the glitches
All these pretty pictures, there must be more to life than pixels
Life has her hands on her pistol
She swears she'll not be ours again
Life will keep her lonely vigil
Slow to start but fast to end; we
Sit and itch our cuts and scratches
Crying in our mother's kitchens
Is this love or death or marriage?
Is this life or is life different?

Do something please
Scream that you hear me
Let this be more than the feeling I harbour
Let this be ours
Let there be more here than wages and Page 3 and waiting for lager
And waiting for trains home
Waiting for trains in
Waiting for life to begin
And then waiting for life to be over
And babies and not saying nothing
Let alone "save me" to strangers
Bad place for a good time
Good place for a bad time
Bad place for a good time
Good place for a bad time

I can't take the stench any more
Nothing is real
Nothing is trying to even pretend that it is
The adverts are too loud
The whole fucking place is shrouded in mist
A mist we can't we can't see
But it sticks in our throats
When we're out for a couple
We don't want no trouble
But trouble wants us
And we fall in the rubble
And we give it our blood
And go home for a cuddle

And this is enough for you; this is enough
But this is not enough, not at all
And this is enough, this is enough
This is not enough; not at all

But here is a tree growing steadily, steadily
Not being nothing but all that it is
Not even grumbling, holding its own
In the concrete, the rumbling of cars, and the dog piss
It doesn't want anything; it is what it is
And I feed it, I'm dwarfed by its wisdom
I'm lit by its colours, I feel every fibre
And this is survival: be what you are
In the mess and the violence
Don't collect rivals, seek out asylums
Find something sacred in all of this silence
I breath out more comfortable, holds my waist in
Legs thick as roots they carry me deeper down
Even when nothing is true and love hates you
There's always some small bit of peace to be found
Even when nothing is true and love hates you
Even when nothing is true and love hates you
Even when nothing is true and love hates you
There's always some small bit of peace to be found

Bad place for a good time
Good place for a bad time
Bad place for a good time
Good place for a bad time

Bad place for a good time
Good place for a bad time
Bad place for a good time
Good place for a bad time