Well, I love the Clash.
It's fine if you have no taste,
Just don't change this song.

Press the button with the arrows facing left.
Play it again, and again, until you run out of breath,
cause you're singing so loud as you're swigging your drink,
and you're crying so hard you can't hear yourself think.

You're loosing yourself more than you'd like to admit.
Press the button again, cause you're cigarette's lit,
and think harder about all your worries and troubles,
while the frustration inside of you builds up and doubles.

Now your face is in your hands and you're shaking.
Feeling sick about telling the world you were faking,
you're out of options, and you haven't a clue,
as you think to yourself, "what the hell do I do?!"

Go ahead, press that backwards button again.
Dry your eyes off as you count down from ten,
and breath deeper to steady your heartbeat,
but continue to think as the same song repeats,

Over, and over, and over again.

I fall for songs I find my name in.
Simple melodies that speak to me,
Like your eyes, when your lips are closed.

I'm amazed by words that have no meaning,
And those that tend to mean the world.
Give it up, sit next to me. We're getting old.

You're not my sunshine, but my rainstorm,
Suppressing my thirst, as I lift my chin to you.
Your kisses smear my face with cold chills.

I'd like to stay forever yours, dear.
Sitting underneath your arm in bliss,
Getting lost in every song and every kiss.