[INSTRUMENTAL — soft kick, distant chops, low pads] [VERSE 1 — close] There was five of us in "LADS" Ten years of pure nonsense Match scores, borrowed twenties Dale's bad dancing videos Then the funeral was a Tuesday Nobody's typed since that day Well — somebody types You watch the dots, then nothing [VERSE 2 — clipped] Dale's last message sits there A picture of a pigeon Caption: "this is Sean, innit" Nobody laughed then I scroll it when it's late now Laughing on my own Forty weeks of nothing Then three dots, then nothing [HOOK — warm, aching chant] Somebody type (somebody type) Somebody type Anything, lads Somebody type (somebody type) Somebody type Anything, lads [POST-HOOK — the chant thins to one voice] Anything, lads (anything, lads) [INSTRUMENTAL — piano alone a bar, then everything back] [VERSE 3 — softer] Found my old phone Sunday Charging like a fossil Dale on video, New Year's Dancing with my mop I watched it maybe ten times Didn't send it anywhere Some things you keep warm Just for you [BRIDGE — voice nearly alone] Tonight I send a photo Us at sixteen, bad hair "Remember this idiot?" Four laughing faces Then the dots came back [FINAL HOOK — fullest, chops stacked] Somebody type (somebody type) Somebody type Anything, lads Somebody type (somebody type) Somebody type Anything, lads [OUTRO — fragments] Somebody type (somebody type) [INSTRUMENTAL OUTRO — pads hold, hats tick out]
