You fell in love with a one man bandnHe played you sang alongnYou give you love away baby, and he took it for a songnAt the time, you thought it was fair tradenThe tune you got now, he can't even playnnMe and the old queens drink our ginger and dubonnetnThrough my tears, the whole world looks like a MonetnPainted by a master touchnBeautiful but it don't mean muchnYou should write a song about thatnYou should write a song about thatnnAll movies now are remakesnWe prefer the originalsnWe're the fans of analoguenIn a world that's gone digitalnNot much is newnIn anything we do or saynAnd as for musicnAll the good songs are covers anywaynnA table by the window to watch the passing stormnThe street is a painting melting , our Sunday in the bornennMe and the old queens drink our ginger and dubonnetnThrough my tears, the whole world looks like a MonetnPainted by a master touchnBeautiful but it don't mean muchnYou should write a song about thatnYou should write a song about thatnnBullet hole stars sprayed across the dawning skynLight bleeds through so slowly, as we talk of saying goodbyennMe and the old queens drink our ginger and dubonnetnThrough my tears, the whole world looks like a MonetnPainted by a master touchnIt's beautiful but it don't mean muchnYou should write a song about thatnYou should write a song about that