Text: Imogen Heap. First Train Home.

Got to get on it
got to get on it
got to get on it

bodies disengage
our mouths are fleshing over
is this an echo game?
irises retreat into ovals of white
the urge to feel your face
in blood rushing to paint my hand red (rim?) *I have no idea what this is
a frigsbee one by one
you're vinyl on laminate
just fit for some kind of contest

first train home, i've got to get on it
first train home, i've got to get on it
first train home, i've got to get on it
got to catch, catch, catch catch, catch the
first train home, i've got to get on it
first train home, i've got to get on it
first train home, i've got to get on it
first train home...

da dumda deyo deyo
da deyo
da dumda deyo deyo
da dey...

temporal dead zone
where clocks are barely breathing
yet no one cares to notice for all the yearning on
I clamour to hold it together
want to play dough wave forms in the Hideaway
Want to get on with getting on with things
Want to run in fields in the kitchen
and love someone
And I can't do any of that here, can i?

first train home, i've got to get on it
first train home, i've got to get on it
first train home, i've got to get on it
first train home...

so what you've had one too many
so what i'm not that much fun to be with
so what you've got your silly hat on
so what i didn't want to come here anyway

what matters to you
doesn't matter, matter to me
what matters to me
doesn't matter, matter to you
what matters to you
doesn't matter, matter to them
what matters to them
doesn't change anything

got to get on it,
first train home
got to get on it,
first train home,

got to get on it,
first train home
got to get on it,
first train home,

got to got to got to got
get get get get
out out out out
now now now now