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