Tracey Emin's Bed

I saw you walking home your Marks & Spencer's bag I thought that punks went to Iceland I thought you remember, we're not allowed nice things Ripped jeans and bottles of cider I swore at 17 that I would never sell out And, mate, I mean it Obviously, unless somebody offered me the opportunity And then I'd take it I'm not an idiot It's like Tracey Emin's bed in my head Kind of creative, but mainly just a mess It's like Tracey Emin's bed I never see you out without that jacket on You must suffer in summer We spend a lifetime painting pictures of ourselves For each other I wonder how long all this could last Together, we're stronger than the sum of our profile photographs It's like Tracey Emin's bed in my head Kind of creative, but mainly just a mess It's like Tracey Emin's bed It's like Tracey Emin's bed It's like Tracey Emin's bed in my head It's like Tracey Emin's bed in my head Kind of creative, but mainly just a mess It's like Tracey Emin's bed It's like Tracey Emin's bed It's like Tracey Emin's bed in my head