Waiting for the seven eighteen
January is endless
Weary eyed and forlorn
The Northern line is still ours

I've got nothing to add or contest
Can still kick a ball a hundred yards
We cling to bottles and memories of the past

Just give me moments
Not hours or days
Just give me moments

Grinding your teeth in the middle of the night
The sadness of those molars
Spend all your spare time trying to escape
Daydreaming about the summertime

If I could do it again, I'd make more mistakes
I'd not be so scared of falling
If I could do it again, I'd climb more trees
I'd pick and I'd eat more wild blackberries

Just give me moments
Not hours or days
Just give me moments

Let's drive to Brighton on the weekend