Primrose Hill - Max Jury

It’s always the same old song and dance

With the poor little rich kids

And their poor little idle hands

That pull apart your chest and bleed you dry

Just to see what it looks like

When somebody else cries

But I want it anyway

All the houses up on Primrose Hill

That I walked by from time to time

Sound like blue and lonesome whip-poor-wills

In the echoes of my mind

In the echoes of my mind

Was I just your existential crisis?

In the anorexic days

Of loving you blindly

We’d sleep all day and go out every night

As if the city of London

Couldn’t get by without us

And your fair-weather friends

Couldn’t find someone else

To get loaded up with

But I want it anyway

All the houses up on Primrose Hill

That I walked by from time to time

Sound like blue and lonesome whip-poor-wills

In the echoes of my mind

In the echoes of my mind

It’s always the same old song and dance

With the poor little rich kids

And their poor little idle hands