Fruit Lyrics

In the rain in the airport car park

Steam rising from the concrete floor

I cried to my sister for half an hour

My voice choked and small

I finished the fruit he'd left

I rarely eat fruit

Then again, I rarely wear things on my wrists

Or fuck in the afternoon

I rarely eat galettes of French chocolate

Naked in bed

And rarely do I smoke

But I lit up a thin, menthol cigarette

I open all the windows

Let some new air in

Everything is new now

I think I love him