You say you are an old cassette that has gone and spilt its spool
You're far more like a wet cardboard tube on this nightclub toilet floor
As I describe my lonely, you listen very clear:
The last set of goalposts taken down, summer of odd numbered year

She says "if you're unhappy, then you gotta find the cure"
Well I prescribe me one more beer, beyond that I am unsure
May not be be all and end all, in my defence she is the whole
I've thrown my goalkeeper forward, she's catenaccio

Flotsam, Jetsam and Spindrift: all the girls I have loved
Dumped to earth by a spendthrift, gilt angels from above
And I saw God in the bathroom, I baptised him in sick
Embraced him around his cistern "c'est la mort!, enough of this"

Knees knocking and
Blood flowing so
I want you to know that I want to

And later she said something that stuck hard in my mind:
"we are their Capel Celyn, they gotta keep their slippers dry
To empathise with Tory's to invite upon disease
A safer bet's to pack your bags, go holiday in Eyam"

I will take you where the sun shines, cast shadows on your face
Crawl into their deepest recess, 'til I freeze or dehydrate
We'll live and breathe it in real time, montage is for the dead
And my heart's still doing Fosburys nowhere near finished yet