Arctic Monkeys....Your pastimes, consisted of the strange the twisted and deranged

And I loved that little game you had called 'Crying lightning'and how you like to aggravate the ice-cream man on rainy afternoons, The next time that I caught my own reflection, It was on its way to meet you, Thinking of excuses to postpone, You never look like yourself from the side, But your profile could not hide, The fact you knew I was approaching your throne, With folded arms you occupied the bench like toothache. Stood and puffed your chest out like you'd never lost a war and though I tried so not to suffer the indignity of a reaction, There was no cracks to grasp or gaps to claw....