Released: March 6, 2017
Songwriter: Thom Sonny Green Gus Unger-Hamilton Joe Newman
Producer: Charlie Andrew
[Instrumental Intro]
[Verse 1: Gus Unger-Hamilton]
There was a wayward lad
Stepped out one morning
The ground to be his bed
The sky his awning
[Verse 2: Joe Newman]
Neon, neon, neon
A blue neon lamp in a midnight country field
Cows surround so you lean on, lean on
So much your hugs become hold ons
[Chorus: Joe Newman + Gus Unger-Hamilton]
Oh, these three worn words
Oh, that we whisper
Like the rubbing hands
Of tourists in Verona
I just want to love you in my own language
[Verse 3: Joe Newman]
Well, that smell of sex
Good like burning wood
The wayward lad lay claim
To two thirsty girls from Hornsea
Who left a note when morning came:
[Bridge: Ellie Rowsell]
"Girls from the pool say, "Hi" (Hi)
The road erodes at five feet per year
Along England's east coastline
Was this your first time?
Love is just a button we pressed
Last night by the camp fire"
[Chorus: Joe Newman + Ellie Rowsell]
Oh, these three worn words
Oh, that we whisper
Like the rubbing hands
Of tourists in Verona
I just want to love you in my own language
[Verse 1: Gus Unger-Hamilton]
There was a wayward lad
Stepped out one morning
The ground to be his bed
The sky his awning
[Verse 2: Joe Newman]
Neon, neon, neon
A blue neon lamp in a midnight country field
Cows surround so you lean on, lean on
So much your hugs become hold ons
[Chorus: Joe Newman + Gus Unger-Hamilton]
Oh, these three worn words
Oh, that we whisper
Like the rubbing hands
Of tourists in Verona
I just want to love you in my own language
[Verse 3: Joe Newman]
Well, that smell of sex
Good like burning wood
The wayward lad lay claim
To two thirsty girls from Hornsea
Who left a note when morning came:
[Bridge: Ellie Rowsell]
"Girls from the pool say, "Hi" (Hi)
The road erodes at five feet per year
Along England's east coastline
Was this your first time?
Love is just a button we pressed
Last night by the camp fire"
[Chorus: Joe Newman + Ellie Rowsell]
Oh, these three worn words
Oh, that we whisper
Like the rubbing hands
Of tourists in Verona
I just want to love you in my own language