Paper Heart – Systematic lyrics

I worshipped you
I considered you my best friend
You kissed me and told me I’m not a man
You’re laughing now
But you’ll want your fun again
I found out why
Why you tried to lie
I smiled at you that really made your boyfriend die.

Its systematic
Some say I look like Cary Grant
Its systematic
I’ll kiss you baby, til I can’t
Its systematic
You make my heart go pitter-pat
Its systematic
And I don’t miss being your man.

I think you’re cute
When I’m with you my head spins
I’ll be your fool
Do anything you want me too
But explain your move
So we can get into this groove
Baby I’ll drive, I’ll take your body for a ride
You can steer the back
Yes my seat covers are always black.

Its systematic
Some say I look like Cary Grant
Its systematic
I’ll kiss you baby, til I can’t
Its systematic
You make my heart go pitter-pat
Its systematic
And I don’t miss being your man.

Young Fathers – Fevers Worse lyrics

Word (x8)

Give me something classic
Wrap it up in plastic
Don’t forget to pack it
Pack it, Pack it
Give me something classic
Wrap it up in plastic
Don’t forget to pack it
Pack it, Pack it

My fever’s worse
My fever’s worse
My fever’s worse
My fever’s worse (give me something)
My fever’s worse (give me something)
My fever’s worse (Oooh)

Selectively indigenous
That’s what you call a genius
Making it original, original, original
Pyrotechnic overtures
Splendid, dancing curvatures
She said lick my (uhh)
While I paint my nails
Do my toes
P-p-paint my nails

Give me something, My fever’s worse
Give me something, My fever’s worse (Oooh)
Give me something, My fever’s worse
Give me something, My fever’s worse (Oooh)
Aye (x13) (Tell me something classic)

Stumble to your plummet with the victim of revolver
Tragedy appears when it’s out of order
The green goblin always comes in abundance
Through the mouth, the heart shall speak
Riding with my trusted steed
Giddy giddy giddy giddy giddy giddy up, yup
Then the beggar says “Where you going with my gumdrop?”
Gum gum, gum, gum gum, my gumdrop (word)

Clean surface, dirty cocktail
Complimentary drink from Mister Rockwell
Opening doors so you don’t touch hell
Friendly staff and personnel
American cigarettes, smoke in silhouettes
Cary Grant would’ve loved chat on the internet
Exchange the guns at the range
Come ride my horse or private plane

My fever’s worse (give me something)
My fever’s worse (give me something) (Oooh)
My fever’s worse (giddy giddy giddy giddy giddy giddy up)
My fever’s worse (giddy giddy giddy giddy giddy giddy up) (Oooh)
Aye (x13) (Tell me something classic)

Word (x8)