Sitting behind you last night and our conversations died
years ago far below
One year we were on the ferry near the harbour bridge and
Asked me where the planes land...
Well how was I supposed to know?
And I'm the worst conversationalist you're ever likely to
When I'm sweet on someone my words stay clenched right between
But that was my chance at teenage romance but...
It always took place in my head or on my radio
You were the first you were the worst
It's clear you could see that you had a hold on me
A hold on me