Featured In

Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Home Counties
Home Counties
Performer
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Will Harrison
Will Harrison
Composer
Lois Kelly
Lois Kelly
Composer
Dan Hearn
Dan Hearn
Composer
Conor Kearney
Conor Kearney
Composer
Bill Griffin
Bill Griffin
Composer
Barn Peiser Pepin
Barn Peiser Pepin
Composer
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Conor Kearney
Conor Kearney
Mixing Engineer
Felix Davis
Felix Davis
Mastering Engineer
Al Doyle
Al Doyle
Producer

Lyrics

It takes time
To fall into line
You say "You don't stand for much
Hollowed out and half embalmed"
I say "Your mind wants far too much
Fattening up like it's foie gras"
And it feels like nothing
Like the whole world's slipping away (what?)
Yeah I feel I'm numbing
Like an old Brit cooking in Spain
And it feels like something
And it feels like nothing (and it feels like nothing)
Like the whole world's slipping away (what?)
And I feel I'm numbing (feel I'm numbing)
Like an old Brit cooking in Spain (Spain)
And I'm sick of churning (yeah I'm sick of churning)
Feel like I'm becoming (feel like I'm becoming)
All the bad things I used to hate (bad news)
Let the bad news take it away
(Bad news, bad news, take it away)
Take it away
(Bad news, bad news, take it away)
Take it away
(Bad news, bad news, take it away)
And it takes time
To realise your mind
To realise too much
And forget about your touch
Flows like water off a lame duck's back (yeah it all times time)
To be a well-read quack (to realise your mind)
But if there's no way back, and you take the flak
Then you won't regret, regret what you started
And it feels like something
And it feels like nothing (and it feels like nothing)
Like the whole world's slipping away (what?)
And I feel I'm numbing (numbing, numbing, numbing)
Like an old Brit cooking in Spain (Spain)
And I'm sick of churning (churning, churning)
I feel like I'm becoming (becoming, becoming)
Like an expat burning in Spain (Spain)
Like an old dog dying in pain
All the bad things I used to hate
Let the bad news take it away
Take it away
Take it away
I wake up on a beach, Alicante
Back burned bad, second degree
Lose my mind on reclining lounger
Stain my lips red with sangria
As the temp rips up high 20's
Glass half-full, not empty
And I feel at home rather than an intruder
I don't know if it's a dream or my future
I wake up on a beach, Alicante
Back burned bad, second degree
Lose my mind on reclining lounger
Stain my lips red with sangria
As the temp rips up high 20's
Glass half-full, not empty
And I feel at home rather than an intruder
I don't know if it's a dream or my future
Written by: Barn Peiser Pepin, Bill Griffin, Conor Kearney, Dan Hearn, Lois Kelly, Will Harrison
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