Carluccio

Uh Can I get the beat up a little bit? Uh French vanilla Ch'yeah, ch-ch-ch'yeah, aye Aye, aye, don't leave (leave) Please I reckon that you're everything I need Uh, I know I'm getting grumpy in the week Sleeping in each other's pockets living up each others sleeves Its the greed I know you hate that money plants the seed I hate the thought you don't believe, me Reckon that I couldn't take the lead Just become another one who milks the sun until it bleeds Yo I think about my best days With you at home marking essays Pouring glasses of sparkling Presse We raise a toast then another toast Making a roast thinking I can hold you close when the best strays Uh, but it if lost I wonder who's to know Uh, I pay the cost of all this to and 'fro Uh, it's like a frostbite blue with snow Uh, the day we lost Carluccio, uh Uh (And um, it's been a struggle sometimes) Check, yeah Uh, the thought makes me cry and I'm embarrassed Thinking bout the nights out in Paris, evening Swimming in the deep end Wishing I'm a savage Say she weren't believing in marriage but times change, uh Now its all a house out in Italy Ceremony Sicily The dreams so bitter sweet Uh, 'cause when I close my eyes all I see is she Shit, I'm hoping she can picture me, uh Or maybe picture kids with a Frisbee It's bare tennis, yo I'm keeping 'em with me I think it's risky I reckon that she missed me We got together like the Nike Airs and crisp tees Uh, but if we don't I wonder who's to know Uh, I pay the cost of all this to and 'fro Uh, it's like a frostbite blue with snow Uh, the way we lost Carluccio (luccio) Ch'yeah Uh, uh the way we lost Carluccio (luccio) Uh, said The way way we lost Carluccio (luccio) Uh, the way we lost Carluccio (luccio) On, the day we lost Carluccio (luccio) Uh The way we lost Carluccio (luccio) Uh, yeah Uh, you'll never be the worst to the first Or better than the last The less we lost to start our own little past I ain't thinking that fast Said, I ain't thinking that fast 'Cause when the honeymoon blast And the day lights passed we raise glass To the past sitting back on arse And we laugh, yeah Shit and we love There fuck it --- Carluccio - Loyle Carner