1. |
Shroud
03:41
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My mother told me there’s no pockets in a shroud,
So I spent it all, yeah I blew the lot,
No rainy day for me, I fucking lost the plot.
My mother told me you can’t take it with you,
So I got as high as the cheque would bounce,
Drank every drink, I took every ounce,
Mistook the wall for the door,
I’m just having fun, they call me a whore.
Never could save money, or myself,
Too worried about being left on the shelf.
Failings and fuck ups haunts me daily.
My mother told me there’s no pockets in a shroud.
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2. |
Life
03:01
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My body betrays me, my home is not my own,
If only your sweet heart, could soothe these aching bones.
I’ve endured needles, I’ve swallowed the pills,
But this sickness, it lingers still.
So I cry, I beg for another life.
So I cry, I beg you save me from my life.
Forever at their mercy, forever at their feet,
Forever tracing backwards ‘til the footprints and memories meet.
There will always be red flags, I’ll always pass them by,
Taking in the vibrant colours and taking it all with a smile.
So I sing, I whine about my life.
So I sing, I lie about my life.
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3. |
Pill
04:23
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Ain’t no pill to cure my ill,
Ain’t no pill to cure her ill,
Ain’t no pill to cure my ill,
Ain’t no pill to cure her ill, no.
Confusing cliched with being a cunt,
Confusing friendship with acquaintance,
Confusing dating with a man on the hunt.
Swapping sins for sainthoods, nothing worse than a convert,
Come back to the dark side they begged, again and again.
Ain’t no pill to cure my ill,
Ain’t no pill to cure her ill,
Ain’t no pill to cure my ill,
Ain’t no pill to cure her ill, no.
No there ain’t no pill to cure my ill,
No there ain’t no pill to cure my ill.
Now I’ve bitten the bullet and spat gunpowder for days,
Wrapped myself in these metaphors just to hide the pain,
Tried to breathe new life into these tired bones,
Just to be able, be able to drag myself home.
Ain’t no pill to cure my ill,
Ain’t no pill to cure her ill,
Ain’t no pill to cure my ill,
Ain’t no pill to cure her ill, no.
No there ain’t no pill to cure my ill,
No there ain’t no pill to cure my ill.
She’s nuts they said,
She’s a little too much they said,
It was an accident they said,
It was suicide I said.
Ain’t no pill to cure my ill,
Ain’t no pill to cure her ill,
Ain’t no pill to cure my ill,
Ain’t no pill to cure her ill, no.
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Think Pretty Cardiff, UK
Cardiff-based two piece that bonded over a love of Queen Adreena more than a decade ago and have been making music together ever since.
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