When we were smart enough to stop, we'd engine off and let the lights run down the battery,
Throwing pebbles at the sea until the dusk, until our tired arms dropped.
And it's criminal, for what it is.
If we get away with this, we get away with everything
I think, I think, I'll take that drink.
Where does the luck form?
We spent the weekend waking up to the storm.
I guess Chloe was right.
The wind blows and the weathervanes creak into the night.
How they always point the same way.
You'd tell yrself it's rusted up.
You'd tell yrself yr never lost.
Where does the luck form?
Where does the guilt fit?
I know how yr dress got ripped.
We spent the weekend waking up to this.