The Sundays - Another Flavour текст песни

Fashion, the timing's all wrong. They taste another flavour and pretty soon you're gone.
Fashion, this time it's too late. You knew you'd have to pay for this one day.
He loves me now, he loves me not. He loves me once again, usual story, another surprise.
Ooh yeah, ooh yeah.

Fashion, this time it's alright, they tickle you with a feather, they tell you you're sublime.
Turn on, to each their own, usual story, another surprise. Ooh yeah, ooh yeah.

Fashion, the timing was wrong, your friends are fair weather, you knew it all along.
Turn on, to each their own, it's doing my mind in another surprise. Ooh yeah, ooh yeah.

Don't let them black you out for the evening, sad-happy sufferer, no, no, no.
Don't let them crack you, try not to feel it, as long as they're watching your show this time.