And you
You don't even know all the stories I made up
About our future life, because I saw it coming, and
I saw it crumbling.

I'd let it crumble in my hands though
Like all the lives
I've ever wanted to live
and it would put words to my mouth
finally giving me something
deceiving to say

Gore texed houses
on a road in Bethnal Green
And I forgot that sometimes I think
that I've spoken
But I haven't

There's plenty of fish in the sea
I'll pick one for you
I wish I wasn't this hollow,
however
But I'm not a boy
And you're not in time