lirik lagu king krule - cellular
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there’s a television
there’s a television speaking to me
there’s a french girl
on my television
she’s crying in the palm of my hand
in moving mental
i read the paper, or just the photo
i rip one out in my hand
there’s a m~ssacre, across the ocean
i can see it in the palm of my hands
(me hundo cada vez más al fondo)
below the ground floor
i’m losing signal, we’ve lost connection
i left her dying, she was still crying
and now she’s lying in my head
above the [?], shrapnel flying
next door’s wobbling
but i’m riding to the end
what am i good for?
i’ve got no signal
abandoned, to the voice in my head
[outro]
i phone my ex (x12)
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