| Arctic Monkeys – Bite Mark in a Terror Pocket Lyrics | 15 years ago |
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Oi! This song is a favourite worst nightmare to figure out. Any input? I've listened far too many times than it is sane to do so and I am still at a loss for this song's particularities. This is at least sorted out better than it was previously. Alex changes the lyrics too, making it impossible to pin down one way. He spoke a script Dipped in the sort of talk to make you keep the gaze It’s all a trick The slicked back slimy arms have got a war to wage He’s got a laugh like a crackling wire And he wants to put the bite marks on you He wants to put the bite marks on you And you twist my guts As the only thing that’s repelling as his invitations Are his excuses And he said I am the conductor, Put me in a terror pocket He did a stint Master in a craft He squint through his spectacle He’d drop a dirty hint if he thinks that he could (can) impress you with the unacceptable And he has turned through all the pages with his fingers And covered them with goo And he wants to put the bite marks on you He wants to put them on you and it hurts my back As (Because) the only thing that’s as heavy as the adoration Is the days of hanging out on his arm And he spilled with all this sounding alarm And he frightened me to death when he said I am the conductor, Put me in a (the) terror pocket Cause he’s trying to give me a ticket to a competition And I don’t know why (how) the odds are stacked As he’s rolling out the running track |
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| Arctic Monkeys – Put Me in a Terror Pocket Lyrics | 15 years ago |
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This is a correction to my previous post, which this site will not let me delete. Oi! This song is a favourite worst nightmare to figure out. Any input? I've listened far too many times than it is sane to do so and I am still at a loss for this song's particularities. This is at least sorted out better than it was previously. Alex changes the lyrics too, making it impossible to pin down one way. He spoke a script Dipped in the sort of talk to make you keep the gaze It’s all a trick The slicked back slimy arms have got a war to wage He’s got a laugh like a crackling wire And he wants to put the bite marks on you He wants to put the bite marks on you And you twist my guts As the only thing that’s repelling as his invitations Are his excuses And he said I am the conductor, Put me in a terror pocket He did a stint Master in a craft He squint through his spectacle He’d drop a dirty hint if he thinks that he could (can) impress you with the unacceptable And he has turned through all the pages with his fingers And covered them with goo And he wants to put the bite marks on you He wants to put them on you and it hurts my back As (Because) the only thing that’s as heavy as the adoration Is the days of hanging out on his arm And he spilled with all this sounding alarm And he frightened me to death when he said I am the conductor, Put me in a (the) terror pocket Cause he’s trying to give me a ticket to a competition And I don’t know why (how) the odds are stacked As he’s rolling out the running track |
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| Arctic Monkeys – Put Me in a Terror Pocket Lyrics | 15 years ago |
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Oi! This song is a favourite worst nightmare to figure out. Any input? I've listened far too many times than it is sane to do so and I am still at a loss for this song's particularities. This is at least sorted out better than it was previously. Alex changes the lyrics too, making it impossible to pin down one way. He spoke a script Dipped in the sort of talk to make you keep the gaze It’s all a trick The slicked back slimy arms have got a war to wage He’s got a laugh like a crackling wire And he wants to put the bite marks on you He wants to put the bite marks on you And you twist my guts As the only thing that’s repelling as his invitations Are his excuses And he said I am the conductor, Put me in a terror pocket And he has turned through all the pages with his fingers And covered them with goo And he wants to put the bite marks on you He wants to put them on you and it hurts my back As (Because) the only thing that’s as heavy as the adoration Is the days of hanging out on his arm And he spilled with all this sounding alarm And he frightened me to death when he said I am the conductor, Put me in a (the) terror pocket Cause he’s trying to give me a ticket to a competition And I don’t know why (how) the odds are stacked As he’s rolling out the running track |
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