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Elbow

Genres: Rock

K2 Lyrics - Elbow

I'm imagining rippling fingers on keys 

Miming it wild on a cold stone table 

Picturing and wishing for home and jiggling my knees 

Send an urgent cable 

 

Dickhead's done a runner and he's wondering 

If anyone cares 

Is the landing light on 

Back to the pebbles that mum's eggs hatched in 

Give me her perfume 

Give me her prayers and advice 

 

Hands up if you've never seen the sea 

I'm from a land with an island status 

Makes us think that everyone hates us 

Maybe darling they do 

But they haven't met you 

They only know the villains at the tiller 

And they gambled the farm on a headline 

 

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Jesus, getting harder to see what they're doing 'til it's done 

And they're never gonna make an arrest on Fleet Street 

 

Yes and I'm given to believing in love 

I've written the word in my blood 

And I perch on a shelf of the K2 

Made of the believers that 

Love, opens the fist just enough for a hand 

To slip into the hand 

 

I've been asleep in the woods with a mother to be 

Planning on a static caravan in the Andes 

Making a break with the steel magpie on the rise 

Defeat in our time or do we 

Meet on the street again due to the few? 

Batter it out and refresh vendetta 

Better surely to pause 

Consider the path 

It's full of blood, snot and teeth and the glory of no one 

 

Hands up if you've never seen the sea 

We're from a place with an island status 

Queuing round the corner for a pencil and paper 

Again 

Come the virus of virii 

God send us to a digital end 

With following strangers and swiping at friends 

I'll send you a postcard 

See you in Hull 

In a sweater made of Atacama llama wool 

 

Yes and I'm given to believing in love 

I've written the word in my blood 

I've seen it make a heaven of 

Backstreet, bedsit and bomb site living room 

Love, opens the fist just enough for a hand 

To slip into the hand 

 

Yes and I'm given to believing in love 

I've written the word in my blood 

I've seen it make a heaven of 

Backstreet, bedsit and bomb site living room 

Love, opens the fist just enough for a hand 

To slip into the hand, to slip into the hand 

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