Crying Lightning

Arctic Monkeys

Humbug


Outside the cafe, by the cracker factory
You were practicing a magic trick
And my thoughts got rude
As you talked and chewed
On the last of your pick and mix

Said: "you're mistaken
If you're thinking that
I haven't been called "cold" before"
As you bit into your strawberry lace
And then a flip of your attention
In the form of a gobstopper
It's all you had left and it was going to waste

Your pastimes consisted of the strange
And twisted and deranged
And I loved that little game you had called
"Crying lightning"
And how you liked to aggravate
The ice-cream man on rainy afternoons

The next time that I caught my own reflection
It was on its way to meet you
Thinking of excuses to postpone
You never looked like yourself from the side
But your profile could not hide
The fact you knew
I was approaching your throne

With folded arms you occupied the bench like toothache
Stood and puffed your chest out
Like you'd never lost a war
And though I tried so not to suffer
The indignity of a reaction
There was no cracks to grasp
Or gaps to claw

And your pastimes consisted of the strange
And twisted and deranged
And I hate that little game you had called
"Crying lightning"
And how you liked to aggravate
The icky man on rainy afternoons

Uninviting
But not half as impossible as everyone assumes
You are
Crying lightning

Your pastimes consisted of the strange
Twisted and deranged
And I hate that little game you had called
"Crying lightning"
Crying lightning
Crying lightning
Crying lightning

Your pastimes consisted of the strange
And twisted and derange
And I hate that little game you had called
Crying

Compositor: Alex Turner

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