Текст: Ian Brown. The Greatest. Whispers.

You're waking in the morning
Spent the night trying to bond with the moon
She never loved you
Just a hot-wired, two-seat, jumped up, splitscreen, dream machine
An alibi to love's young dream

I hear a lot of rumours
I hear a lot of stone cold rumours
I hear a lot of whispers
I hear a lot of easy talking, given whispers
About you

She only wanted you
For what you could do to get her picture in a sunday magazine
She's just a hot-wired, two-seat, jumped up, splitscreen, dream machine
An alibi to love's young dream

I hear a lot of rumours
I hear a lot of stone cold rumours
I hear a lot of whispers
I hear a lot of easy talking, given whispers
About you

I hear a lot of rumours
I hear a lot of stone cold rumours
I hear a lot of whispers
I hear a lot of easy talking, given whispers

What a pleasure it is to receive
And what a God-given gift is to the air that we breathe

I hear a lot of rumours
I hear a lot of stone cold rumours
I hear a lot of whispers
I hear a lot of easy talking, given whispers
About you

I hear a lot of rumours
I hear a lot of whispers
And they're all about you