September

Every suntan tells stories and the shape of the white snitches
 Fat men in tropical climes
 Now you tell me you've been fucking somebody new
 And that I should've known for a while
 ♪
 Watching the starlings as autumn draws in
 As they make ghosts across London fields
 And I would've moved out there to be with you
 I would've moved out there for real
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 Saw a choir of golden angels wearing matching rucksacks
 As they obscured the view to your train
 And I'm sorry if it seems like I'm rambling here
 Just want to see the way the skin splits 'round his bones
 And the gurgling head in your lap
 And the arms of the crowd as they pull me away
 And the mud and the blood in the grass
 When we scraped our bones together
 We got fire (fire, fire, fire-)
 When we scraped our bones together
 We got fire (fire, fire, fire-)
 When we scraped our bones together
 We got fire (fire, fire, fire)
 When we scraped our bones together
 We got fire (fire, fire, fire)