There's a girl there on the dancefloor and I don't know how to reach her,
Now, heterosexuality's not my defining feature.
They said skinny jeans and cardigans were the only way to go,
But now it seems that Oxfam employees are not the ones who know just how it works.
Give me a minute while I fiddle with my hair,
'Cause you keep telling me that it looks fine, but I'm the one who cares
About a good impression being made,
'Cause I'm the one who might get laid.
Don't tell me how the game is played,
Don't tell me how the game is played.
And I don't want to talk to her or take her hand
In case she tells me her favourite band is not my favourite band.
And how do I know which drink she'd want me to buy?
When do I look her in the eye?
When did the indie music scene become so overfussed,
With social inadequacy being such a plus?
Don't knock me to the ground if I'm already falling,
It'll only make things worse, you know I always knew my calling was the sage.
This evening's filling me with rage,
I only wish I had some sage advice to give to me,
The Indie Handbook, Volume Three.
We reach out girls we fancy by getting with their boyfriends,
Replaced your party-loving mates with awkward greasy boyfriends,
Who like listening to Sonic Youth.
You always much appear aloof.
Remember no amount of faking,
Will make you indie band groundbreaking.
Oh, don't think you're special or much less of a disgrace,
Just because you've got yourself a lady who plays bass.
Don't bother finding somebody to play the skin recorder,
No, that's not gonna put you back in working order.
You haven't got a different sound,
You aren't part of the underground,
You haven't been together long,
So try and write some b***** songs.
The girls outside are talking to a taxi driver,
If she were going home with me it'd only cost a fiver to my door,
I'd talk to her, but I am sure she much have heard it all before,
And guys, oh, I could cry,
That's probably the reason why,
She's dressed just like a l******, I hear it's quite a craze,
You can hardly move in pubs for the l******s these days,
Oh, but it hardly matters if she's gay,
It's time to move on anyway,
I'll see you guys here half-past ten,
Tomorrow evening, do it all again.
Now, heterosexuality's not my defining feature.
They said skinny jeans and cardigans were the only way to go,
But now it seems that Oxfam employees are not the ones who know just how it works.
Give me a minute while I fiddle with my hair,
'Cause you keep telling me that it looks fine, but I'm the one who cares
About a good impression being made,
'Cause I'm the one who might get laid.
Don't tell me how the game is played,
Don't tell me how the game is played.
And I don't want to talk to her or take her hand
In case she tells me her favourite band is not my favourite band.
And how do I know which drink she'd want me to buy?
When do I look her in the eye?
When did the indie music scene become so overfussed,
With social inadequacy being such a plus?
Don't knock me to the ground if I'm already falling,
It'll only make things worse, you know I always knew my calling was the sage.
This evening's filling me with rage,
I only wish I had some sage advice to give to me,
The Indie Handbook, Volume Three.
We reach out girls we fancy by getting with their boyfriends,
Replaced your party-loving mates with awkward greasy boyfriends,
Who like listening to Sonic Youth.
You always much appear aloof.
Remember no amount of faking,
Will make you indie band groundbreaking.
Oh, don't think you're special or much less of a disgrace,
Just because you've got yourself a lady who plays bass.
Don't bother finding somebody to play the skin recorder,
No, that's not gonna put you back in working order.
You haven't got a different sound,
You aren't part of the underground,
You haven't been together long,
So try and write some b***** songs.
The girls outside are talking to a taxi driver,
If she were going home with me it'd only cost a fiver to my door,
I'd talk to her, but I am sure she much have heard it all before,
And guys, oh, I could cry,
That's probably the reason why,
She's dressed just like a l******, I hear it's quite a craze,
You can hardly move in pubs for the l******s these days,
Oh, but it hardly matters if she's gay,
It's time to move on anyway,
I'll see you guys here half-past ten,
Tomorrow evening, do it all again.