Other Exercises
Crying Lightning 
Hard
by Arctic Monkeys
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the cafe by the cracker factory
You practicing a trick
And my got rude
As you talked and chewed
On the of and mix
So, you're if you're thinking
That I haven't called cold before
As you bit into lace
And then me attention
In the form of a gobstopper
It's all you had and it was going to waste
Your consisted of the strange
And and deranged
And I love that little game
You had called "Crying lightning"
And how you liked to aggravate
The ice-cream man on rainy afternoons
The next time that I my own reflection
It was on its way to meet you
of excuses to postpone
You never like yourself
From the side but your profile
Could not the fact
You knew I was your throne
With folded arms you occupied
The bench like a toothache
and puffed your chest out
Like you'd never a war
Although I tried so not to suffer
The indignity of a reaction
was no cracks to grasp or gaps to claw
And your pastimes consisted of the strange
And twisted and deranged
And I hate little game
You had called "Crying lightning"
And how you liked to aggravate
The icky man on rainy afternoons
Uninviting
But not as impossible
As everyone assumes you are
"Crying lightning"
pastimes of the strange
Twisted and deranged
And I hate that little game you had called
lightning
Crying lightning
Crying lightning
Crying lightning
Your pastimes, of the strange
And twisted and deranged
And I that little game
You had called "Crying"...
You practicing a trick
And my got rude
As you talked and chewed
On the of and mix
So, you're if you're thinking
That I haven't called cold before
As you bit into lace
And then me attention
In the form of a gobstopper
It's all you had and it was going to waste
Your consisted of the strange
And and deranged
And I love that little game
You had called "Crying lightning"
And how you liked to aggravate
The ice-cream man on rainy afternoons
The next time that I my own reflection
It was on its way to meet you
of excuses to postpone
You never like yourself
From the side but your profile
Could not the fact
You knew I was your throne
With folded arms you occupied
The bench like a toothache
and puffed your chest out
Like you'd never a war
Although I tried so not to suffer
The indignity of a reaction
was no cracks to grasp or gaps to claw
And your pastimes consisted of the strange
And twisted and deranged
And I hate little game
You had called "Crying lightning"
And how you liked to aggravate
The icky man on rainy afternoons
Uninviting
But not as impossible
As everyone assumes you are
"Crying lightning"
pastimes of the strange
Twisted and deranged
And I hate that little game you had called
lightning
Crying lightning
Crying lightning
Crying lightning
Your pastimes, of the strange
And twisted and deranged
And I that little game
You had called "Crying"...
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( Automatic Translation )
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