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Suburbs

de Marsicans

I’m lost in the bread aisle
Should be over
In frozen with those little things
That make my mood swing
The cost of the feeling
That I crave
Is way beyond my day to day
But I’d still pay

It’s getting light again
Ephemeral
But still enough to change my mind
And start to define
Just what I need to get by
As I shield my eyes
From all the bad in the world
As it continues to unfurl

You know it’s cold, cold, cold
You know it’s cold, cold, cold

And I’m not looking for simile
I just need these little things
It’s these little things

Like how you feel when indoors
As the rain starts to pour
And you’re nice and warm
'Cause the heating’s on
Or when you find a bank note
Crumpled up in a coat
That you’ve not worn in a while
How it makes you smile

You know it’s gold, gold, gold
You know it’s gold, gold, gold

And I’m not looking for sympathy
I just need these little things
It’s these little things

It’s these little things

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