Hm, hm, hm, hm
Hm, hm, hm

Walking down to the passport office
There's a damp smell
There's an old slip stuck to your shoes
Just not a very nice place to go if you don't feel welcome
And if things are looking upside down
Take me to Fra Mauro
You couldn't pay me to stay here
Role play as hotel inspector
Bits of rotten apple gather
And it's a weird warning
Personally done with this crap cooked up
All rough or soft seats

Hm, hm, hm

Don't kick me out of the U. K
I just want to stay with my girlfriend
Screw ups, pile ups, and foul ups
You're really rotating my map
And not in a good way
A Dutch taste of free cake for me
A Portuguese party for you
Well I just work here
And it's basically opposite day
The space blanket flaps
And the burnt smells back

Let those windmills turn
Let your ear wax churn
Some sad desperate emoji

It's those kind of details
That send out the strongest signals
Actually it's No Cold Callers
She goes "do use the drops"
And my face drops

And when you handed me the box
It was jewel-like
And inside
Was a baby necklace