More songs by Joy Crookes
More songs by Kano
Description
Associated Performer: Joy Crookes feat. Kano
Lyricist, Composer, Associated Performer, Lead Vocalist: Joy Crookes
Associated Performer, Lead Vocalist: Kano
Drums: Nathan Allen
Percussion: Oli Savill
Bass: Alex Bonfanti
Composer, Piano, Lyricist: Sam Beste
Viola: Amy Stanford
Viola: Jo Galtin
Violin: Blaize Henry
Violin: Ellie Stanford
Violin: Elodie Chousmer-Howelles
Violin: Gita Langley
Violin: James Douglas
Violin: Jessie Murphy
Violin: Kotono Sato
Violin: Marianne Haynes
Violin: Philippa Mo
Violin: Rosie Langley
Violin: Sarah Daramy-Williams
Violin: Sarah Sexton
Cello: Klara Romac
Cello: Rachel Lander
Composer, Lyricist: Barney Lister
Composer, Lyricist: Matt Maltese
Composer, Lyricist: Kane Robinson
Producer, Executive Producer, Mixing Engineer: Blue May
Mastering Engineer: Matt Colton
Arranger, Music Director: Amy Langley
Executive Producer: Harvey Grant
A& R Director: Fin Kemp
A& R Director: Alastair Kinross
A& R Director: Glyn Aikins
Lyrics and translation
Original
This ain't a movie, that ain't a heart attack.
You might have the good hand, but you won't be the last man.
I got a little less each time there's someone new.
Get in the deep end just to say we should be friends.
But I don't wanna be your backup part.
You still wanna conquer your whole heart.
Tired, crying on the salon floor. I'm pretty, but I'm miserable.
Goodbye, good luck trying to work it out.
Oh baby, it's not mathematics, it's love.
Had you on the kitchen floor, quiet in the parking lot.
Damn, that sure was wonderful.
Now I'm single at the tennis court, lost in the super store, holding down the twenty-four. All that's left is your T-shirt.
You're a bruise and it still hurts.
Tired, crying on the salon floor. Oh, I'm pretty fucking miserable.
Goodbye, good luck trying to work it out. Oh baby, it's not mathematics, it's love.
I frequent lit locations, whipping spaceships.
There's no saving this ship from sailing. Distant neighbors, we're so close. Take me back when I get back home.
Question, three dots got me looking at restaurants.
Heston, roses are red like my message was left on.
Fakers doesn't want my cake and cuz of course I want a taste of something.
Maybe our grass would've been greener without this shade you're chucking. Maybe my heart would've been cleaner without you saging cupboards.
Used to dance away the demons.
Now your evenings be mascara-staining Kleenex, blaming weekends.
Tired, crying on the salon floor. Oh, I'm pretty fucking miserable.
Goodbye, good luck trying to work it out.
Oh baby, it's not mathematics. It's not mathematics.
It's not mathematics, it's love.
But he don't see that.
English translation
This ain't a movie, that ain't a heart attack.
You might have the good hand, but you won't be the last man.
I got a little less each time there's someone new.
Get in the deep end just to say we should be friends.
But I don't wanna be your backup part.
You still wanna conquer your whole heart.
Tired, crying on the salon floor. I'm pretty, but I'm miserable.
Goodbye, good luck trying to work it out.
Oh baby, it's not mathematics, it's love.
Had you on the kitchen floor, quiet in the parking lot.
Damn, that sure was wonderful.
Now I'm single at the tennis court, lost in the super store, holding down the twenty-four. All that's left is your T-shirt.
You're a bruise and it still hurts.
Tired, crying on the salon floor. Oh, I'm pretty fucking miserable.
Goodbye, good luck trying to work it out. Oh baby, it's not mathematics, it's love.
I frequent lit locations, whipping spaceships.
There's no saving this ship from sailing. Distant neighbors, we're so close. Take me back when I get back home.
Question, three dots got me looking at restaurants.
Heston, roses are red like my message was left on.
Fakers doesn't want my cake and cuz of course I want a taste of something.
Maybe our grass would've been greener without this shade you're chucking. Maybe my heart would've been cleaner without you saging cupboards.
Used to dance away the demons.
Now your evenings be mascara-staining Kleenex, blaming weekends.
Tired, crying on the salon floor. Oh, I'm pretty fucking miserable.
Goodbye, good luck trying to work it out.
Oh baby, it's not mathematics. It's not mathematics.
It's not mathematics, it's love.
But he don't see that.