She flies to Paris, France, I come down in her childhood bed
And write the words I´ll one day wish that I had never said
Now all that I became must die before the forum thread

The cursed vultures feed and spread the seeded daily bread
And I guess I found out
What it´s like

I am the richest boy in every room
Mainline to the UE BOOM
They ask me

"Why don´t you sing with an English accent?"
Well, I guess it´s too late to change it now
In the rural American town fairground
I go ´round and I go ´round
It´s a great wide gulf between intentions and what ground met me
I check my phone and make the sound
Like "Theme From Failure" performed for just you
Like the new road built out of Black Country ground

I have learned so little from all I lost in 2018
I think she´s still waiting there for us, somewhere
Underneath what we built to keep the waters clean
It´s a one-size-fits-all, hardcore, cyber-fetish, early-noughties zine
She sells Matcha shots to pay for printing costs and a PR team
We are recently enlightened and for some reason, it fazes thee
But it won´t give up, too soft to touch
How hard could it really be?