dont you just know it when you loose the plot
i fucking hate that, dont you
when you just think
'i dont fucking know'
its like you ask yourself
'what are we gonna do?'
and its like
'dont worry mate its sorted, just chill'
and then you look in your hands and theres no hope
theres no words
Not one word did i fucking have

weather or not it just comes to you or not your still fucked in the long run

this is the god honest truth,
i was in the back of someones, i dunno, cortina or something
and we went past the shop
and then it just hit me
i fuckin just wrote it there,
then we went in and he sung it
sorted,

but still, i dont know what i want,
today, i was looking round, dazed and confused, 17 years of noise and confusion, thats me

the two precious stones dont seem to be that precious to me any more,
it may just have been today
one has been a bit of an antique to me, still shiny, soft and round, but seems to be on another beach, far away
the other is one i found a little while ago whilst at the coast, i picked it up, and cupped it for a short period, but it seems like this pebble just wants to find another shore
and i dont seem to be that sad to loose them, but i will be, i will see what im missing, they've seen what thier missing and they dont seem to be too fussed at my sandy paridise
but as a good source has told me
'call some thing paradise, kiss it good bye'
thats why i dont like using that word,

sometimes i think
'is anyone here prepared to say
just what they mean or is it too late
for anyone here to try to do,
just what it takes to get through to you,'
then i hear the sound of the ocean, the tide going out,
oh well, the boats cant move then can they, if only i was a boat
WHAT AM I SAYING!
im an idiot........

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