Primrose Hill Lyrics

Face like forgetting the day of the week

During the holidays

I'm damn sick so I lie till I'm ill

And sleep on Primrose Hill

I'll hide in bushes and jump out at tourists

My slanted living

There's twigs in my hair, ink in my teeth

And my skirt was made for spinning

Nobody's noticing I've gone feral

I'm a victim of my class

I feel so wise watching the world go by

Sitting on my arse

Sing on Primrose Hill

With the witches sweeping up leaves

Pour another glass

Pour la vie and maybe pour me

Sing on Primrose Hill

With the witches sweeping up leaves

Pour another glass

Pour la vie and maybe pour me

Face like holy water in my tea

And coffee on your shirt

I feel a pretty perfect tramp

In all my finest dirt

How I wish I was here I feel nowhere near

I'm more lost than ever

There's rain on my face and the city in my eyes

My shoes have soggy leather

Halogen lightbulbs in high cages

Burnt orange explodes

My retinas are sore and my hands so cold

Why don't I want to go home

Sing on Primrose Hill

With the witches sweeping up leaves

Pour another glass

Pour la vie and maybe pour me

Sing on Primrose Hill

With the witches sweeping up leaves

Pour another glass

Pour la vie and maybe pour me

Sing with me

La la la la

Sickly sweet or is it bitter

Pardon me

La la la la

Nearly pretty, could be fitter

Sing with me

La la la la

Sickly sweet or is it bitter

Pardon me

La la la la

Nearly pretty, could be fitter