Day after day, love turns grey

Like the skin of a dying man and

Night after night, we pretend its all right

But I have grown older and

You have grown colder and

Nothing is very much fun anymore



And I can feel one of my turns coming on

I feel, cold as a razor blade

Tight as a tourniquet

Dry as a funeral drum,

Run to the bedroom, in the suitcase on the left

You'll find my favourite axe

Don't look so frightened



This is just a passing phase

One of my bad days

Would you like to watch T.V?

Or get between the sheets?

Or contemplate the silent freeway?

Would you like something to eat?

Would you like to learn to fly? Would you.

Would you like to see me try?

Would you like to call the cops?

Do you think it's time I stopped?

Why are you running away