| I thought that I was hungry for blood |
| Maybe I’m just hungry for love |
| Tear from a woman on the shore |
| You prairie ghost on a cottage hall |
| Oh, the mermaids have sharp teeth |
| Razor blades all in your feet |
| England is only ever grey or green |
| The girls glitter striding glorious and coatless in the rain |
| I remember fallin' through these streets |
| Somewhat out of place, if not for the drunkenness |
| It makes my chest hurt to think of it |
| Not of regret, but of missing that |
| Cheerful oblivion |
| Cheerful oblivion |
| It was not all pain and pavement slick with rain |
| And shinin' under lights from shitty clubs and doing shitty drugs |
| And huggin' girls that smelled like Britney Spears and coconuts |
| And with your mermaid hair and your teeth so sharp |
| You crawled from the sea to break that sailor’s heart |
| You only get one night up on the shore |
| So dance like you’ve never danced before |
| And the dance floor is filling up with blood |
| But, oh, Lord, you’ve never been so in love |
| Cheerful oblivion |
| Cheerful oblivion |
| Cheerful oblivion |
| And mermaids, they come once a year |
| They climb the struts of Brighton Pier |
| They come to drink, they come to dance |
| To sacrifice a human heart |
| And the world is so much wilder than you think |
| You haven’t seen nothin' 'til you seen an English girl drink |
| Cheerful oblivion |
| Cheerful oblivion |
| Cheerful oblivion |
| Cheerful oblivion |
| Cheerful oblivion |