Perfect Lyrics - The The

It's a chilly english winter 

And solitude is never easy to maintain 

Except when it rains 

So I hang an empty smile beneath my empty eyes 

And go out for a walk 

The wet morning sun reflects off the paving-stones 

While a little dog barks it's head off 

In the distance 

Oh, what a perfect day 

To think about my silly world 

My feet are firmly screwed to the floor 

What is there to fear from such a regular world? 

Passing by a cemetery 

I think of all the little hopes and dreams 

That lie lifeless and unfilled beneath the soil 

I see an old man fingering his perishing flesh 

He tells himself he was a good man and did good things 

Amused and confused by life's little ironies 

He swallows his bottle of distilled damnation 

Oh, what a perfect day 

To think about my silly world 

My feet are firmly screwed to the floor 

What is there to fear from such a regular world? 

Passing by a cemetery 

I think of all the little hopes and dreams 

That lie lifeless and unfilled beneath the soil 

I see an old man fingering his perishing flesh 

He tells himself he was a good man and did good things 

Amused and confused by life's little ironies 

He swallows his bottle of distilled damnation 

People turn around with unseeing eyes 

They're looking for something that doesn't exist 

The world you once knew is being eaten up by rust 

No-one has time for the past, but still, in God they trust 

The future is now, but it's all going wrong 

Bodies good for nothing, but it's to nothing they belong 

People say prayers and some work hard 

If you give them all your money, they'll give you their hearts 

This town ain't getting like a ghost town 

It's getting like hell 

Oh, what a perfect day 

To think about my silly world 

My feet are firmly screwed to the floor 

What is there to fear from such a regular world? 

Passing by a cemetery 

I think of all the little hopes and dreams 

That lie lifeless and unfilled beneath the soil 

I see an old man fingering his perishing flesh 

He tells himself he was a good man and did good things 

Amused and confused by life's little ironies 

He swallows his bottle of distilled damnation 

Oh, what a perfect day 

To think about my silly world 

My feet are firmly screwed to the floor 

What is there to fear from such a regular world? 

Passing by a cemetery 

I think of all the little hopes and dreams 

That lie lifeless and unfilled beneath the soil 

I see an old man fingering his perishing flesh 

He tells himself he was a good man and did good things 

Amused and confused by life's little ironies 

He swallows his bottle of distilled damnation 

Oh, what a perfect day 

To think about my silly world 

My feet are firmly screwed to the floor 

What is there to fear from such a regular world? 

Passing by a cemetery 

I think of all the little hopes and dreams 

That lie lifeless and unfilled beneath the soil 

I see an old man fingering his perishing flesh 

He tells himself he was a good man and did good things 

Amused and confused by life's little ironies 

He swallows his bottle of distilled damnation 

Oh, what a perfect day 

To think about my silly world 

My feet are firmly screwed to the floor 

What is there to fear from such a regular world? 

Passing by a cemetery 

I think of all the little hopes and dreams 

That lie lifeless and unfilled beneath the soil 

I see an old man fingering his perishing flesh 

He tells himself he was a good man and did good things 

Amused and confused by life's little ironies 

He swallows his bottle of distilled damnation 

Oh, what a perfect day 

To think about my silly world 

My feet are firmly screwed to the floor 

What is there to fear from such a regular world? 

Passing by a cemetery 

I think of all the little hopes and dreams 

That lie lifeless and unfilled beneath the soil 

I see an old man fingering his perishing flesh 

He tells himself he was a good man and did good things 

Amused and confused by life's little ironies 

He swallows his bottle of distilled damnation