Straight In At 11 Lyrics - Romance Is Boring - Los Campesinos!

I think we need more post-coital and less post-rock 

Feels like the build up takes forever but you never get me off 

You pull your dress over your face 

And I stare down towards my chest 

Chastise both our greasy hair 

Wonder whose gut is the softest 

Stand with my ear to the door 

Listening to the landing floorboards 

Working out when we'll be safe 

To dash the mattress to yr bathroom 

Where I ball my fingers into fists 

Until my knuckles glow bright white 

Press the heels into eye-sockets 

'Til I see the flashing lights 

Stop me when my stories change 

When they have started to repeat 

'Cause last time I was a mess of sleep, of icy feet 

So baby 

All apologies 

It was going to happen inevitably, oh 

I think we need more post-coital and less post-rock 

Feels like the build up takes forever but you never touch my cock 

And what exactly do you mean now 

By "what can you even eat?" 

And how does that affect how I'll get off this evening? 

I flew down south to Mexico 

Had a minor realization 

I understood why kids draw the sun with its rays emanating 

And the beams broke the clouds, 

The sky were like a concertina 

I'd sat on in my pocket for weeks 

Folded up from a picture 

I've been playing straight chicken with gay girls 

(It's never enough) 

She keeps on pulling the peace sign 

(And it seems like a taunt) 

She licked a glaze on her lips 

They shone like Battleship Grey 

She never liked the wisdom I gave: 

Some people give themselves to religion 

Some people give themselves to a cause 

Some people give themselves to a lover 

I have to give myself to goals 

So baby 

All apologies 

It was going to happen, inevitably 

And if it helps 

I mean, even slightly at all 

It's best you dust yourself down 

And get straight back on the horse 

I condescend a smile 

And wink directly at the camera 

And leave you led in both our scents 

As I tiptoe out the back door 

I skid down icy streets 

And view my face in the reflection 

Of a High Street lingerie store 

Though it wasn't my intention 

I phoned my friends and family 

To gather round the television 

The talking heads count down the most heart-wrenching break-ups of all time 

Imagine the great sense of waste 

The indignity, the embarrassment 

When not a single one of that whole century 

Was mine