You fell in love with a woman band,
He played, you sang along,
He gave your love away, baby,
And you took it for a song,
At the time, you thought it was fair trade,
The tune you got now, he can't even play
Me and the old queen's drink are gentle and debonair,
Through my tears, the whole world looks like a Monet,
Painted by a master touch, beautiful but it don't mean much,
You should write a song about that,
You should write a song about that
Oh the movies now, the remix we prefer the originals,
We're the founds of a***og in a world that's gone digital,
Not much is new in anything we do or say,
And as for music, all the good songs are covers anyway,
A table by the window to watch the passing storm,
The street is a painting melting, our Sunday in the born
Me and the old queen's drink are gentle and debonair,
Through my tears, the whole world looks like a Monet,
Painted by a master touch, beautiful but it don't mean much,
You should write a song about that,
You should write a song about that
Bullet holes stars spread across the dawning sky,
Light bleeds through so slowly,
As we talk of sayin' goodbye
Me and the old queen's drink are gentle and debonair,
Through my tears, the whole world looks like a Monet,
Painted by a master touch, it's beautiful but it don't mean much,
You should write a song about that,
You should write a song about that
He played, you sang along,
He gave your love away, baby,
And you took it for a song,
At the time, you thought it was fair trade,
The tune you got now, he can't even play
Me and the old queen's drink are gentle and debonair,
Through my tears, the whole world looks like a Monet,
Painted by a master touch, beautiful but it don't mean much,
You should write a song about that,
You should write a song about that
Oh the movies now, the remix we prefer the originals,
We're the founds of a***og in a world that's gone digital,
Not much is new in anything we do or say,
And as for music, all the good songs are covers anyway,
A table by the window to watch the passing storm,
The street is a painting melting, our Sunday in the born
Me and the old queen's drink are gentle and debonair,
Through my tears, the whole world looks like a Monet,
Painted by a master touch, beautiful but it don't mean much,
You should write a song about that,
You should write a song about that
Bullet holes stars spread across the dawning sky,
Light bleeds through so slowly,
As we talk of sayin' goodbye
Me and the old queen's drink are gentle and debonair,
Through my tears, the whole world looks like a Monet,
Painted by a master touch, it's beautiful but it don't mean much,
You should write a song about that,
You should write a song about that