Been listening to it on repeat too - can't get enough, especially the Lunette half.
First time I heard it I was in work and nearly burst into tears right there at my desk, partly at the beauty of Lunette and partly just sheer relief at having the boys back.
I had a go at getting down the lyrics. Feel free to jump in if I've gotten any wrong!
It's a lethal ballet, air traffic congestion.
I'm having a baby - second thoughts, scotch, dinner and
Someone's dancing on the box, a former MP and no one's watching.
My oldest friends are a serious habit, fly boy blue, so bring your faces home
To my sweet trampoline, and acres of crash side love.
Someone's dancing on the box, a former MP and no one's watching.
My oldest friends are a serious habit, fly boy blue, so bring your faces home
To my sweet trampoline, and acres of crash side love.
Presidential delays, suppose I'm just lucky.
I'm having a shindig - me, red Bob, and the ivory host and
Someone's shouting on the box, a chinless prefect gone Godzilla.
My newest friends have forgotten my name, but so have I, so far so good.
I'm home, you and me trampoline, and oceans of crash side love.
What can be said of the cigarette smokes?
A prop for a joke or a mark on the clock.
If I stopped would the bus ever come?
Would the dawn ever kiss me, forgiving me, knowing what's done?
Would the drivel make scribble make sense and then song?
Would the (?) tonight black a northern man's bones?
Perverse as it may sound I sometimes believe
The tip to my lips just reminds me to breathe.
What can be said of the whiskey and wine?
Random abandon or balustrade (?) joy
That was scuppered with trust, little more than a boy
And besides I'm in excellent company.
I'm reaching the age when decisions are made
On the life I'm living, and I'm sure last ditch
That I'll ask for more time, but mother forgive me
I still want a bottle of good Irish whiskey
And a bundle of smokes in my brain.
But there isn't words yet for the comfort I get
From the gentle lunette of the top of the nape
Of the neck that I wake to.
And where are the words for the leap in my chest,
Where mischief appears either side of the scar,
Only those (?) made by a rose thorn,
So you claim, by a rose thorn.