Now Time - Close Lobsters

Now now now now

Now now now now

Now now now now

Now now now now

Now now now now

Now now now now

Now now now now

Now now now now

Now now now now

Now now now now

Now now now now

Now now now now

Now now now now

Now now now now

My favorite stupid phrase

Things will never be the same

Favorite stupid phrase

Things will never be the same

Saving up for better days

History is about to be made

Live in The House in those days

We run in a rush from this day on

And the spectre haunting you will be gone

Doesn't matter how far you've gone

Doesn't matter how far you've gone

Now now now now

Now now now now

Now now now now

Now now now now

Now now now now

Now now now now

Now now now now

Now now now now

Now now now now

Now now now now

Now now now now

Now now now now

Now now now now

Now now now now

Now now now now

Now now now now

Now now now now

Now now now now

Now now now now

Keep on moving keep going on

The spectre haunting you will be gone

Things will never be the same

My favorite ever stupid phrase

Moving up with some better days

History is about to be made

When are you going to get something done

Sometimes emotion when you're moving on

History is about to be made

Saving up for some better days

History is about to be made

My favorite ever favorite phrase

Now now now now

Now now now now

Now now now now

Now now now now

Now now now now

Now now now now

Now now now now

Now now now now

Now now now now

Now now now now

Now now now now

Now now now now

Now now now now

Now now now now

Now now now now

Now now now now

Now now now now

Now now now now

Now now now now

Now now now now

Now now now now

Now now now now

Now now now now

We're raised on a plateau but I'm forever slipping

Haunting the scene of our own repression

And under the point Mirabeau flows the same

Yes under the point Mirabeau still flows the same

Still flows the same

And these are the blue remembered hells

That into our hearts seek to kill

These are the lands of lost contentment

Eternally return to spill

We ran to a desert storm

And never came back home sweet home

And hung on to a satellite too long

Hang onto the good times

Everywhere they they come

Hang onto the good times

When and if you can

History is about to be made

History is about to be made

Now now now now

Now now now now

Now now now now

Now now now now

Now now now now

Now now now now

Now now now now

Now now now now

Now now now now

Now now now now

Now now now now

Now now now now

Now now now now

Now now now now

Now now now now

Now now now now

Now now now now

Now now now now

Now now now now

Now now now now