Cellular

There’s a television There’s a television Speaking to me There’s a French girl On my television She’s crying In the palm of my hand In moving metal I read the paper Well just the photos I ripped one out With my hands There’s a massacre Across the Earth Across the Earth Across the ocean I can see it In the palm of my hand Below the ground floor We’re losing signal We’ve lost connection I left her dying She was still crying And now she’s lying In my head Above the third rail Sat still flying Next stops Wapping But I’m riding to the end What am I good for I’ve got no signal Abandoned to the voice in my head I phone my ex I phone my ex I phone my ex I phone my ex I phone my ex I phone my ex I phone my ex I phone my ex I phone my ex I phone my ex