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Los Campesinos!
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For Flotsam
You say you are an old cassette that has gone and spilt its spool
You're far more like a wet cardboard tube on this nightclub toilet floor
As I describe my lonely, you listen very clear：
The last set of goalposts taken down, summer of odd numbered year
She says 'if you're unhappy, then you gotta find the cure'
Well I prescribe me one more beer, beyond that I am unsure
May not be be all and end all, in my defence she is the whole
I've thrown my goalkeeper forward, she's catenaccio
Flotsam, Jetsam and Spindrift: all the girls I have loved
Dumped to earth by a spendthrift, gilt angels from above
And I saw God in the bathroom, I baptised him in sick
Embraced him around his cistern 'c'est la mort!, enough of this'
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Knees knocking and
Blood flowing so
I want you to know that I want to
And later she said something that stuck hard in my mind:
'we are their Capel Celyn, they gotta keep their slippers dry
To empathise with Tory's to invite upon disease
A safer bet's to pack your bags, go holiday in Eyam'
I will take you where the sun shines, cast shadows on your face
Crawl into their deepest recess, 'til I freeze or dehydrate
We'll live and breathe it in real time, montage is for the dead
And my heart's still doing Fosburys nowhere near finished yet
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