The occasional scrivener

She drove her mother’s car, ‘twas a 2CV
I was most impressed by her casual dress
I was most impressed
Inside her rented room, coloured deepest blue
I suppose we found
Some kind of happiness
To fill the emptiness

We were simply wasting precious time
Hiding from the cruelest summer sky

She took her mother’s car, to get away from me
Heaven knows that I, I can sympathize
Oh I can sympathize
For we were never close, if the truth were told
All we ever shared
Was a taste in clothes
Oh we were never close

We were simply losing everything
Underneath the cruelest London sun

We were simply wasting precious time

— Lloyd Cole