Like the contents of your handbag You don't know why it's there People ask you where you're heading You just answer "anywhere"
We don't mean to be this vague It just happens that we are No-one asked us to elaborate We just shrug our shoulders and be
And like the stories that just happened No-one thought of, no-one planned We could have ruled, we could have conquered Then we could have been a man
Half an hour is seven hours One day is several months A year can be a decade spent
He knows "hello" in eighteen languages By the time he's got his phrase-book The chance is usually gone
And we feel ourselves quite prepared But quite prepared for what Before we actually knew the plot
And you can tell where we've been shopping By the bags beneath our eyes
Half an hour is seven hours One day is several months A year can be a decade spent
You don't set off the doors We used to feel like chorus girls And now we feel like whores
Hearts built like reservoirs Thoughts built like juggernauts Our actions built like prams
And when the wind blows into our face We should be warmer and not colder Well, what price the charges On this cargo that we shoulder
Half an hour is seven hours One day is several months A year can be a decade spent
And we only smoke when bored And we've lost the difference Between bored and lonely anyway More from Beautiful South