Альбом Belle & Sebastian

Emma tried to run away,
I followed her across the city,
She went out to the Easterhouse,
Because she liked the sound of it.

She didn't have a single penny,
She stuck a finger in the air,
She tried to flag down an aeroplane,
I suppose she needs a holiday.

I put my arm around her waist,
She put me on the ground with Judo,
She didn't recognise my face,
She wasn't even looking.

Laura's feeling just ideal,
Her horoscope was nearly perfect,
She's thinking of something to do,
Because she is The Birthday Girl.

She walked out to the edge of town,
She saw me lying in the park,
She took Emma by the hand,
They've got a lot in common.

I'll leave them to do what they want,
I'll leave them to do what they need to,
I'll go and play with words and pictures,
I'll admit I'm feeling strange.

[instrumental]

I'm not as sad as Doestoevsky,
I'm not as clever as Mark Twain,
I'll only buy a book for the way it looks,
And then I stick it on the shelf again.

Now I could tell you what I'm thinking,
But it never seems to do you good,
It's beyond me what a girl can see,
I'm only lucid when I'm writing songs.

This is just a modern rock song,
This is just a sorry lament,
We're four boys in corduroys,
We're not terrific but we're competent.

Stevie's full of good intentions,
Richards into rock 'n' roll,
Stuart's staying in and he thinks it's a sin,
That he has to leave the house at all.

[instrumental]

This is just a modern rock song,
This is just a tender affair,
I count "three, four" and then we start to slow,
Because a song has got to stop somewhere.

I know where the summer goes
When you're having no fun
When you're under the thumb
I know where the summer dwells
If your underarm smells
And your kitchen looks like hell

I know where the summer goes
If you're scraping a pot, and your head is hot
Put your head down, put your thumbs up girl
With the smell of hot desk
And the glitter of your step
He was right, he's the upcoming guru of the city
No one told the city councillors

I know, you can tell me again
I've got my mobile phone
Full of silicon chips
No one likes a smart arse
But I've seen a pattern emerge
I will race you up the hill
Where the boy who made records out of postcard messages
And flowering cherries rain on kids like you

Look twice at the kid with the crimped
And overheated hair
They ran a book on his looks
Odds on was the noble pose and
The denim hard riff of the Irish Troubadour
But the boy came from nowhere to
Steal the hearts of lassies in the lavvies of the club tonight

In the hope I'll forget I'll wait
It's a chance I'll take oh yeah
In the hope I'll forget I'll wait
For the time

In the spring I'll watch my step
While the night-time passes by
When a smile suits me all alone
I'll be fine

There's got to be a better song to sing
Before I hang upon your shoulder
Telling the truth it may be bolder this time
There's got to be a better song to sing
That makes a lonely one less cold oh
Before I hang upon your shoulder and cry

Watching friends playing in the dirt
Feeling hard but feeling hurt
By the sadness that wastes my time
It's a crime

Counting acts which I must add
To collect sad memories
From a past I'd soon forget
Swap or leave

There's got to be a better song to sing
Before I hang upon your shoulder
Telling the truth it may be bolder this time
There's got to be a better song to sing
That makes a lonely one less cold oh

Before I hang upon your shoulder and cry
At the gate I'll wave goodbye
To the friends that were my lies
And I'll see them off at dawn
Feeling wise
Feeling wise
Feeling wise

There's a portrait
In a back room,
Which I keep for days upon, which I relent
And gaze for hours on the muscle skin and bone of some
Imaginary friend.

So how about it?
Show me please how I will look in twenty years
And let me please,
Interpret history in every line and scar that's painted
There in front of me.

It doesn't matter what I'm thinking
What I tell myself to do
I'll end up calling.

I stay in to defrost the fridge
Now the kid has gone to bed
A feeling of dread.
At least when she's around the troubles there,
It's worse to wake up with her falling round the room.

Listen Johnny; you're like a mother
To the girl you've fallen for,
And you're still falling.

Listen Johnny;
You're like a mother to the girl you've fallen for,
And you're still falling,
And if they come tonight
You'll roll up tight and take whatever's coming to you next.