Bill Callaghan

brilliant well let's take a listen we have smog but cold-blooded old times she said we didn't see a thing we said we didn't see a thing and father left at eight nearly splintering the gate cold-blooded old times cold-blooded old times

Cold-blooded old times Cold-blooded old times The type of memories That turn your bones to glass Turn your bones to glass And though you were

Just a little swirl You understood Every word And in this way They gave you clarity A cold-blooded clarity Cold-blooded old times