Sunny Intervals
Chamomile Tea
A room above the WetherspoonsAwake, hyperactive and testing my nerves until breaking pointAnd from the beer gardenThe shrill sound of laughter and bottles that smash on the pavement outside And all the mothers that I meetCan't quite explain his lack of sleepingAnd all the fathers on the chatroomsBlissfully tired with frayed emotionsBut they're somehow relaxedBut he never falls asleepI can't find the energyThe words that might placate himAnd something's going to give at some point And then through the letterboxA cold call approach, you know I can't really vouch for the sourceYet someone's listeningAnd says they can help, you know I can't really turn them away And though my instinct was to runI turned up on daytime televisionTo be ambushed by a friendA hostile receptionAnd the main host, a show off by tradeAnd the researchers didn't careLetras de cancionesAnd the counselors won't listenThe producers chase their ratingsAnd hung me out to dry So, what comes next for me?Left to the judgment of viewers of daytime TVAnd as the drinkers drinkI draw down the curtains and reach for the chamomile tea
From Letras Mania