Samizdat

You get away
To the corner shop
With no ideas
In your head at all
For the samizdat
For the samizdat
Pass the dying trees
Hear the blackbird tweet
But no ideas
In your head at all
For the samizdat
For the samizdat

You can buy the nice bread
You can buy the fillings
You can smell the petrol
And the fresh grass cuttings
For hours
For hours

You keep yourself
In your terrace house
With no ideas
That you feel at all
For the samizdat
For the samizdat
There's a sigh next door
And some tabby feet
But no ideas
In your head at all
For the samizdat
For the samizdat

You can wipe the kitchen
You can hang the washing
You can hear the weather
And your restless body
For hours
For hours

You make a break
For the underground
With no ideas
That make sense at all
For the samizdat
For the samizdat
Try to spot the stairs
From the busy street
But no ideas
In your head at all
For the samizdat
For the samizdat

You can queue with strangers
You can hear their voices
You can feel the platform
As your train approaches
For hours
For hours



Credits
Writer(s): Samuel Tornio
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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