[Gus Unger-Hamilton]
There was a wayward lad
Stepped out one morning
The ground to be his bed
The sky his awning

[Joe Newman]
Neon, neon, neon
A blue neon lamp in a midnight country field
Can't surround so you lean on, lean on
So much your heart's become fond of this

[Joe Newman + Gus Unger-Hamilton]
Oh, these three worn words
Oh, let me whisper like the rubbing hands
Of tourists in Verona
I just want to love you in my own language

[Joe Newman]
Well, that smell of sex
Good like burning wood
The wayward lad laid claim
To two thirsty girls from Hornsea
Who left a note when morning came

[Ellie Rowsell]
Girls from the pool say "Hi" (hi)
The road erodes at five feet per year
Along England's east coastline
Was this your first time?
Love is just a button we pressed
Last night by the campfire

[Joe Newman + Ellie Rowsell]
Oh, these three worn words
Oh, that we whisper like the rubbing hands
Of tourists in Verona
I just want to love you in my own language