And wrap them around the necks of all the feckless men that queue to be the next
Steepled fingers, ring leaders, queue jumpers, rock fist paper scissors, lingered fluffers
In your hoof lies the heartland
Where we tent for our treasure, pleasure, leisure, les yeux, it’s all in your eyes
In your snatch fits pleasure, broom-shaped pleasure
δηλαδή οτι και να γράψω έχω συμμετοχή;
Muscle to muscle and toe to toe
The fear has gripped me but here I go
My heart sinks as I jump up
Your hand grips hand as my eyes shut.
και το ηθικό δίδαγμα; οι στοίχοι των alt-j δεν βγάζουν κανένα νόημα...