He had his regrets
Bout telling his secrets
But they were quite beige-
He's young for his age.
Careworn and coarse,
My heart is a dead horse,
That they keep flogging
They say I should be out, snogging,
Some nice person in nice trousers.
But I'm singing your praises, under the overpass
Where they can't hear.
It's been a terrible year.
For high people
That live in low places
They take our details,
And then forget our faces.
And nice people in nice trousers,
Live in very different houses,
To ours.
French artist Feu Follet returns with a collection of hooky, synth-driven tracks that bubble & pop like the best ’80s new wave. Bandcamp New & Notable Jul 31, 2022