We know that we could sell your magazines   If only you could give your life to literature   Just don't read Jane Eyre!   Work on your algebra and stand out in the rain   And give yourself to simple pleasures but   Never play card games!   Meanwhile, back at home   Not in Communist Russia, well only on my headphones   We plot our march onto the town hall   And if we'd take prisoners or simply simper at those fools      Please don't tell me to do the Math      Tonight we're gonna smash this place up   And then we're gonna deck it out with fairy lights   Til we are content!   And then we'll maybe drown in Dewey decimal   But leave our shoes outside the door   Cos that was the point!   Of us at home with the moon   Pouring through the curtains, working on our attitude   Towards the second hand book shop employees   Reading the inscriptions that were never meant for their eyes      Please don't tell me to do the Math      I'm stitching up each one of your pockets so when    we are together you'll maybe look a little less bored   I'm sticking your fingers into sockets to kick-start    your little heart and maybe sleep a tiny bit more   Oh maybe we should read more into the books that we adore,    perhaps we should drink less vitamin C