The Bough Bends Tindersticks

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[Verse 1: Spoken]
The whole thing
Just a collection of fragments
Bustling, vying, each holding its own constituents
The overall
It's a pragmatist's view
Overall it's going well, it's going okay
Some good ideas badly executed
Best laid plans
These irritating wounds we need to attend to
Again and again
The ecstasy of erasure
Blank and clean
For a moment, a chance
To see what we could have been
To see what we could have been
Our reflections turn away
And I want you so much my clothes hurt me
She smiled this morning
In a big fantastic smile
And I was desperate for that happiness
She leaned and kissed me
And for the moment I didn't care about the rest

[Verse 2: Sung (Spoken)]
The fruit is hanging in November still (Ungiven)
Didn't know the past then or how it would feel (Unyielding)
A block of resin with a scorpion entombed (Impregnable)
A stash of Semtex with the longest fuse (Crackling, hissing)
Pages blackened with a section torn (Avoided and unforgotten)
Pages blackened, yellow and brown (Unsent, useless)
A drop of venom in the burgundy (Delicious, irresistible)
A knot of sadness in the stupidity (It's the only way down)
It's the only way down (It's the only way down)
It's the only way down (It's the only crossing)
The bough bends, the fruit still hangs (Unpeeling, untasted)
I cannot offer my help (Trembling and empty)
I cannot offer my help (Distractions, distractions, distractions, distractions)