Mr. Key & Greenwood Sharps Funny Valentine
[Verse 1: Mr Key]
Yo
I made my home inside a stranger's skin
Swing and miss the monkey bar
Landed in a crumpled heap
Whose are all these f..cking bones?
Watched it from the outside
Living on some once removed
Analyse the evidence
Holograms for instant play
20 different angles you could analyse the way you slip but couldn't change a thing
And every time you watch, the shit's the same
Must've been the body snatch that f..cked with his coordinates
Swapping moods like footy cards
"Sort me out a shiny son!"
Bin him like he's obsolete
Chuck him on the rubbish heap
The purpose that he served is past
Your future's looking bright as f..ck
"Sorry bruv my hands are tied"
Everybody plays their part
Check her in the waiting room
Waiting for her life to start
Empathise, I recognise myself in every dirty face
"He's a real nowhere man"
Writing tunes for nobody about me getting over you
Attempted some preemptive strike and paralysed my feet with everytime I tried to shoot at you
Live inside the superglue
Must've got it muddled up
I swore that it was me that walked away and now I'm f..cking stuck
[Verse 2: Mr Key]
So happy valentine
Mine's the ultra-violet blue
Sending all my love to you
Written in a shaky hand
What a way to say goodbye
See you at the finish line
Reverie's the sweetest thing
Pictures in a broken frame
Boxes filled with yesterday's futures sat collecting dust
Some things she could never trust
I guess she learnt to read between the lines a life of tainted love had carved in his behaviors
Operant conditioning
Optimised for broken homes
Chromosome's expression gets affected by experience
Facts are never that
It's all contorted in your looking glass to manifest the past inside the present
What a pretty scene
Shame about the disbelief
Cracks up in the window screen
Happiness is parallel
Reality's forbidden dream
"He who dares Rodders(!)"
We were Eden share croppers
And look where that got us
It got us - and now he's shy and stand-offish
Digging for them hired-hand dollars
Everything's ambiguous in white and black blotters
Heroes long forgotten
He grew out of all his childish dreams
Heroines are obsolete
This is not a picture book
Eulogies for lovers lost and never had a happy end
My favourite colour's sepia
This is not a plot device
