Common Things - Little Comets

When she first gave me coldsores

On a park bench in Walsall

I remember the feeling

As the last of the light

Dripped with might

From the palms of the evening

Like a psalm on the ceiling

Of her home, of her home

I love those common things I do with her

TV at six o’clock is de rigueur

Don’t need to fall apart to works of art

Don’t speak no Portuguese in the dark

And we can’t be romantic

Cos we don’t live in France yet

Get our kicks from the frantic

Little movements of feet

As I gallivant she keeps an atlas

Sleeping under the mattress

So I’m home, so I’m home

Don’t need to run along to Chittagong

Don’t need to get to Delhi or Geelong

Don’t need to throw a coin into a fountain

Don’t need to digress in the Spanish Mountains

Don’t need to trek from Santander to Bilbao

When I’ve got this better way to find out how

Cos I love those common things,

I love those common things,

I love those common things,

I love those common things.