© 2026 Irrelin. All rights reserved https://suno.com/@irrelin [Verse 1] Went out for a cigarette and stayed till I couldn’t feel my hands. She came in a red Escort clipboard on her knee like bad news. Said the railing encouraged “unsafe forms of leaning”. Wouldn’t look me in the eye. I’d been out there most nights just holding the cold in my hands. I told her it was council steel, from seventy-eight. She wrote that down as well. [Pre-Chorus] And I thought: so this is what passes for intimacy now. [Chorus] You shouldn’t be seen with your mouth on that not with all these windows opposite You shouldn’t be making a habit of things like that with all that paint and frozen spit They’ll send a man in sensible shoes to tell you what this says about you But I’ve seen you check the windows first before you lean in [Verse 2] Kev upstairs said it lowered the tone in that shiny black shell suit he calls “going out clothes”. Carol from 2C watched through her net curtains smiling like she couldn’t wait to sound concerned. The kids in the yard laughed once, then forgot. And the rail just stayed there like it knew I’d timed the corridor lights. [Bridge] I did it once when the corridor lights were off. Just for a second. Tongue flat against the metal. So cold it made my teeth ache. Tasted of rust, paint, and stairwell damp. I pulled away too late. Stood there in my socks on the freezing concrete laughing like an idiot as if someone up the block had seen though I’d not tried to hide. [Final Chorus] You shouldn’t be seen with your mouth on that not once they’ve made it official You shouldn’t let a thing like that see what you’re like when you can’t sleep They’ll send the notice they’ll use the right words they’ll write it like concern But some of us still lean out late slightly un-compliant [Outro] So here we are. Same flat. Same balcony. Same strip of grey paint coming off on your sleeve. No manifesto. No grand affair. Just tenants with too much time on our hands and one thing less to be proud
