Lyrics
You know that we could sell your magazines
If only you could give your life to literature, just don't read Jane Eyre
Work on your algebra and stand out in the rain
And give yourself to simple pleasures but never play card games
Meanwhile, back at home, not in communist Russia
Well, only on my headphones
We plot our march onto the town hall
And if we'd take prisoners or simply simper at those fools
Please don't tell me to do the math
Please don't tell me to do the math
Tonight we're gonna smash this place up
And then we're gonna deck it out with fairy lights 'til
We are content
And then we'll maybe drown in Dewey decimals
But leave our shoes outside the door 'cause that was the point
All of us at home with the moon
Pouring through the curtains, working on our attitude
Towards the second-hand book shop employees
Reading the inscriptions that were never meant for their eyes
Please don't tell me to do the math
Please don't tell me to do the math
Please don't tell me to do the math
Please don't tell me to do the math
I'm stitching up each one of your pockets
So when we are together, you'll maybe look a little less bored
I'm sticking your fingers into sockets
To kick-start your little heart and maybe sleep a tiny bit more
Oh, maybe we should read more into the books that we adore
Perhaps we should drink less Vitamin C
And now I'm shouting out in capital letters
"I will throw you high-fives if you keep your own secrets"
