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In a terraced house in Rubery haunts

The ghost of something awful

Crushing dark and normal

Like the night we made yr parents divorce

Days spent playing rebels

Pushing our own funeral forwards, forwards

I almost fucked you on the couch in the lounge

Teenagers are useless

Cause a brittle christmas

And the glass shards sparkle sharp in the snow

Outside for the romance

Inside for the lust

And I want you, want you, want you, want you

And I want you, want you, want you, want you

I heard you kept a diary

Of all the gone-wrongs

And I know you won’t believe me

I think yr one of the lucky ones (lucky ones)

I think yr one of them

You walked a long way with yr dignity crowned

If yr your mothers anger

I’m my fathers grave

And we’re back on our old shaky ground

You don’t believe in ghosts

But that terracted house in rubery

Haunts you, haunts you, haunts you, haunts you

Haunts you, haunts you, haunts you, haunts you

I heard you kept a diary

Of all the gone-wrongs

And I know you won’t believe me

I think yr one of the lucky ones (lucky ones)

I think yr one of them