The Bluetones
The Bluetones
The Bluetones
The Bluetones
The Bluetones
The Bluetones
The Bluetones
The Bluetones
The Bluetones
The Bluetones
Hmmm there's a light spilling under the door
Mmmm there's a phone comin' up through the floor
I know you've explained, all the rules to the game
Mmmm but I don't wanna play any more
I'm losing my days, I'm losing my nights
It's part of the ageing process
I'm losing my left, I'm losing my right
My memory's strange to hopeless
I'm losing my will, I'm losing my fight
I'm pretty punched up but that's all right
I'm telling myself it's gonna be fine
It's beating better people than me
There's a fire rising up in my throat
Mmmm there's a man with a hand in his coat
I know what you'd like, is my head on a spike
Mmmm I don't wanna be in on the joke
I'm losing my days, I'm losing my nights
It's part of the ageing process
I'm losing my left, I'm losing my right
My memory's strange to hopeless
I'm losing my will, I'm losing my fight
I'm pretty punched up but that's all right
I'm telling myself it's gonna be fine
It's beating better people than me
I'm losing my days, I'm losing my nights
It's part of the ageing process
I'm losing my left, I'm losing my right
My memory's strange to hopeless
I'm losing my will, I'm losing my fight
I'm pretty punched up but that's all right
I'm telling myself it's gonna be fine
It's beating better people than me
There's a car standing into a wall