text: When I got back from fixing my hair
  You were directing the traffic
  Letting your story slip on the snow
  As if the transmission was automatic
  Its arguable that I shouldntve been there
  It was fortunate timing
  I had a hole in the pocket of my favourite coat
  And my love dropped into the lining
   Not on me
  I havent got my strange
   Not on me
  You cant sleep until youve sat on the steps
  To weep til you feel like youve wept, yeah
   No, not on me
  I havent got my strange
   Not on me
  I havent got my strange
  Ive better fetch my strange
  I havent got my strange
  I havent got my strange