Whippet Fanciers
The Long Blondes

I took the paternoster lift to the fourteenth floornAnd I couldn’t help despairing over what I sawnThousands of whippets were running aroundnAnd not one of them belonged to mennI don’t know if you’ve heard the news by nownBut they’re planning on pulling all our old haunts downnNot that it’ll matter too much to younBut I have to live with the consequencesnnWithout you I’ll still be smilingnBut I won’t be having funnI laid awake in my flat pack bednAnd all I heard was one pair of lungsnnI wasn’t always stuck in this state of affairsnHe and I lorded it for two or three yearsnHe said, “don’t get me wrong love, I’ve had a good timenBut the concrete gets me down”nnWe talked for a while and we occasionally metnJust to keep up the pretence that it could happen againnBut now all I’ve got is a postcode to go onnAnd that won’t get me laidnnWithout you I’ll still be smilingnBut I won’t be having funnI laid awake in my flat pack bednAnd all I heard was one pair of lungsnnAnd there are things you won’t forgetn4711 at the nape of the necknSwallow tattoos and cameo broochesnApplying eyes on southbound coachesnRaiding skips of next-door neighboursnPiles of unread Sunday papersnStealing from cosmetics countersnAnd all the things I’ll never ,ever do againnNow that you’ve gonenAnd all the whippets, all the whippetsnPass me by, pass me bynnWithout you I’ll still be smilingnBut I won’t be having funnI laid awake in my flat pack bednI had a spinning headachenAnd all I heard was one pair of lungsnI need to hear two pairs of lungsn


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