Ok, this song is indirectly about game -- what it's about is manipulative predatory females, who will do everything they can in the vast emotional arsenal they have to trap you and suck you into their world.
It is from Arctic Monkeys and their genius lyricist front man Alex Turner. His cynicism is very very refreshing.
First up -- Cryin' Lightning.
Outside the cafe by the cracker factory,
You were practicing a magic trick,
And my thoughts got rude as you talked and chewed,
On the last of your pick 'n' mix.
Said you’re mistaken if you’re thinking that I haven't been caught cold before,
As you bit into your strawberry lace,
And then offered your attention in the form of a gobstopper,
It’s all you had left, and it was going to waste.
Your pastimes consisted of the strange,
And twisted and deranged,
And I love that little game you have 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 does 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 the war,
And though I tried so not to suffer the indignity of a reaction,
There was no cracks to grasp, or gaps to claw.
And your pastimes consisted of the strange,
And twisted and deranged,
And I hate that little game you had called, crying lightning,
And how you like to aggravate the icky man on rainy afternoons.
Uninviting, but not half as impossible as everyone assumes you are,
Crying Lightning!
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