Sunny Intervals - Two Thousand Plus Five текст песни

Hey, just tell me what you're thinking
I'll never be preoccupied like two thousand plus five

So here we are waiting and chatting at the 91 bus stop in Aldwych in May 2005. The night's sky's orange from street lights as theater-goers mingle with tourists and clubbers. And you start to tell me something about your friend and her job or her boyfriend or something like that, but I'm distracted. I'm distracted by a car going past blazing Push The Button. The Sugababes song, not the Chemical Brothers of course.

The bus winds its way up towards Euston with only cyclists and revellers to contend with. Oh, okay it's your friend's boyfriend who's got a new job. I try and hide the fact that I'm disappointed he has a better job than me, and instead start to worry about by shrinking attention span. My mind races through thoughts of chip and pin and Jerry Springer the Musical. From London bombs and G8 riots to 24-hour drinking and Prince Harry in fancy dress. From investors sending football clubs into debt to the ubiquity of singer-songwriters. I try to shake these things from my mind, but distraction prevails.

Hey, just tell me what you're thinking
I'll never be preoccupied like two thousand plus five

Apparently when it's late the logical part of your brain shuts down and the creative part takes over. Or maybe that's just tiredness. Anyway, I start to think about the election. How did they get a 67 seat majority with 35 per cent of the vote? It's basic maths. The bus heads for Holloway, past the tower blocks and five-a-side pitches. We're talking about the film, but I've got no memory for names or actors. I think during the film I was wondering whether I'd actually go to the Olympics, or if there's anything more pointless than cricket and the ashes.

You turn to me and say I seem preoccupied. I need to think of something really quickly. Something that could be occupying my thoughts. Family, job, friends, the futility of existence, the weekly shop, the despair in my soul? Actually no, scrap that, everything seems fine at the moment. The bus slowly descends into the village where we alight. I apologize for being distracted and you're kind enough to pretend it's all fine. You open the door because I forgot my keys again. And the cycle continues.

Hey, just tell me what you're thinking
I'll never be preoccupied like two thousand plus five

I'll carve it all on my heart
I'll carve everything on my heart
Metaphorically