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