102
Well, we're here
We're at the common again
Smoked six of the ten fags that I only bought an hour ago
Said, 'Well I, I like the look of your shoes
I like the way that your face looks when I'm arguing with you'
And so when, when we all grow old
I hope this song will remind you I'm not half as bad as what you've been told
And when I knock at a hundred and two
And I see your pajamas
I can't stop smiling at you
That's why we're here, we're at the common again
I've been pouring my heart out towards your optimistic grin
I said, 'Well I, I like the cut of your jib
I like the way that your face looks when you're yapping on about him'
But on this shirt I found your smell
I just sat there for ages contemplating what to do with myself
I called you up at a hundred and two
We just sat there for ages
Talking about that boy what was getting on to you