En ce moment, j’écoute beaucoup Kate Nash et cette chanson que passe souvent OuiFM dans mon autoradio lorsque je vais au collège le matin.
La mélodie est simple mais c’est une petite ritournelle qui reste facilement ancrée dans nos têtes. Le texte est sympa également.
Kate Nash – Foundations
Thursday night,
everything’s fine,
Except you’ve got that look in your eyes,
when I’m telling a story
And you find it boring you’re thinking of something to say.
You’ll go along with it and then drop it
And you humiliate me, in front of our friends.
Then I’ll use that voice what you find annoyin’ and say something like
“yeah intelligent input darlin’ why don’t you just go and have another beer then?”
Then you call me a bitch and everyone we’re with will be embarrassed,
and I won’t give a shit.
My fingertips are holding onto the
cracks in our foundations,
and I know that I should let go,
but I can’t.
And every time we fight I know it’s not right,
Every time that you’re upset and I smile
I know I should forget, but I can’t.
You said I must eat so many lemons,
’cause I am so bitter.
I said “I’d rather be with your friends mate,
cause they are much fitter”
Yes it was childish
and you got aggressive
and I must admit that I was a bit scared,
but it gives me thrills to wind you up.
My fingertips are holding onto the
Cracks in our foundations,
and I know that I should let go,
but I can’t.
And every time we fight, I know it’s not right,
Every time that you’re upset and I smile,
I know I should forget, but I can’t.
Your face is pasty,
‘Cause you’ve gone and got so wasted,
what a surprise,
don’t want to look at your face,
’cause it’s making me sick.
You’ve gone and got sick on my trainers,
I only got these yesterday.
Oh my gosh, I cannot be bothered with this.
Well, I’ll leave you there till the mornin’,
and I purposely won’t turn the heating on
and dear God, I hope I’m not stuck with this one.
My fingertips are holding onto the
Cracks in our foundations,
and I know that I should let go,
but I can’t.
And every time we fight, I know it’s not right,
Every time that you’re upset and I smile,
I know I should forget, but I can’t.
And every time we fight I know it’s not right,
every time that you’re upset and I smile.
I know I should forget, but I can’t.
[x2]
Et l’accent londonien lower-middle-class, je trouve cela sexy.
