Letras:
Vampire Weekend Vampire Weekend

: Who gives a fuck about an Oxford comma? I've seen those English dramas too They're cruel So if there's any other way To spell the word It's fine

: A devastating backstroke All the way from France With shiny, shiny cufflinks A shirtsleeve to enhance The pin-striped men of morning Are coming for

: Ottoman couch, how handsome your furniture Lovelier now, but dressed for a funeral Begging you to sit for a portrait on the wall To hang in the dark

: I wake up My shoulder's cold I've got to leave here Before I go I pull my shirt on Walk out the door Drag my feet along the floor I pull my shirt on

In December drinking horchata I'd look psychotic in a balaclava Winter's cold, is too much to handle Pincher crabs that pinch at your sandals In December

Your sword's grown old and rusty Burnt beneath the rising sun It's locked up like a trophy Forgetting all the things it's done And though it's been a

An ancient business, a modern piece of glass work Down on the corner that you walk each day in passing The elderly sales clerk won't eye us with suspicion

It?s not right but it?s now or never And if I wait could I ever forgive myself? On a night when the moon glows yellow in the riptide With the light from

Holiday, oh, holiday And the best one of the year Dozin' off underneath my sheets While I cover both my ears But if I wait for a holiday Could it stop