Crying Lightning by Arctic Monkeys

Outside the cafe by the cracker factory
You were practicing a magic trick
And my thoughts got rude
As you talked and chewed
On the last of your pick and mix
So, you're mistaken if you're thinking
That I haven't been called cold before
As you bit into your strawberry lace
And then offered me your attention
In the form of a gobstopper
It's all you had left and it was going to waste

Your pastimes consisted of the strange
And twisted and deranged
And I love that little game
You had called "Crying lightning"
And how you liked to aggravate
The ice-cream man on rainy afternoons

The next time that I caught my own reflection
It was on its way to meet you
Thinking of excuses to postpone
You never looked like yourself
From the side but your profile
Could not hide the fact
You knew I was approaching your throne
With folded arms you occupied
The bench like a toothache
Stood and puffed your chest out
Like you'd never lost a war
Although I tried so not to suffer
The indignity of a reaction
There was no cracks to grasp or gaps to claw
And your pastimes consisted of the strange
And twisted and deranged
And I hate that little game
You had called "Crying lightning"
And how you liked to aggravate
The icky man on rainy afternoons

Uninviting
But not half as impossible
As everyone assumes you are
"Crying lightning"

Your pastimes consisted of the strange
Twisted and deranged
And I hate that little game you had called
Crying lightning

Crying lightning

Crying lightning

Crying lightning
Your pastimes, consisted of the strange
And twisted and deranged
And I hate that little game
You had called "Crying"...