Going On Cold - Blind Mr. Jones
Standing on my
Own again
Turning inside
Out and when you
Look up
I'll be looking down
Going to keep my
Head this time
Thicken up this
Skin of mine
I'll sit
Out
This dance
You spun me round before
Fumble through my
Aching head
Hearing all those
Words you said
I think I'll put them to
A tune that you know well
But I'm sick of that old
Tune I sing
It fills my head with
Old black things
Oh Christ you've spun me round
Just like you did before
