Another fruitless day,
All my leaves a game of chase,
Berries thank you for gracing our empty earth,
(Yes, a number one please, can I please have a number one?)
What I have is what left to give away.
Old batteries we will wear around our necks,
hide in the bedroom whenever a brooch starts to talk,
it’s the only way to live.
Turn on the TV,
Turn the lights out,
Real fucking problems we found each other.
Real fucking problems we found each other.
Turn on the TV,
Turn the lights out,
Perhaps love is real,
Real fucking problems we found each other.
Turn on the TV,
Turn the lights out.
Turn on the TV,
Turn the lights out,
Real fucking problems we found each other.
Real fucking problems we found each other.
Turn on the TV,
Turn the lights out,
Perhaps love is real,
Real fucking problems we found each other.