A morbid fascination with all things in extremes
A limited sport will leave its spot on me
Early in the morning, I've given up on sleep
I'm in the attention, but all I hear is my heart beat
His spastic aspirations will make a man of me
Brought him for his playing, such sensitivity
Monsters of the present are the monsters of the past
Took a look in your lyric book, your head's right your arse
It's unbelievable, the way you got it all, it seems improbable
The inner city fauna is crying round your feet
I never really noticed how your eyebrows seemed to meet
In perpetual fear of being swallowed whole
Beached in the suburbs in the body of a whale
A strong comment here is specific: the phrase you keep hearing, the mood you come back for, or the reason this song stays in rotation.
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