#cicadabeats

We make our own mythologies Yr maps won't let us down again Yr legend's all played out You're keeping some dark secrets But you talk in your sleep

We make our own mythologies All gangster scenes and bullet scars Yr fashion's three months late If I had the guts I promise I would

Cut the powerlines Tape the letterbox shut I don't worry about those things I don't worry about those One grey mess to another grey mess Distance knows a heavy heart best

Eve(ry) sin(gle), sin(gle) night (out) For a lifetime of college films (A sign! A sign! A sign! A sign!) I'm hoping, I'm hoping, I'm hoping you don't call

Tear down our nightclubs, put up flats Burn down our pubs and put up flats All rows of neat new tracts Why'd you want to live here if there's nothing but Housing?

Yr boyfriend owns the bar, we drink Yr boyfriend ruins everything In a room with blinds drawn down If I had the guts I promise I would 

Cut the powerlines Tape the letterbox shut I don't worry about those things I don't worry about those  From on grey mess to another grey mess Distance knows a heavy heart best