Target

If you can summon your strength, tell me
I can’t hold down the urgency
You’ve got to make your descent, slowly

Momentary synergy

When are you arriving, my Propeller?

***

Your past times consisted of the strange
Twisted and deranged
And I hate that little game

Your folded arms occupy the bench like toothache
Saw them, puff your chest like you never lost a war

Music & lyrics by The Arctic Monkeys

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