| Coming down again
|
| Won’t you leave a trampoline…
|
| …at the foot of the stairs?
|
| So I won’t break my neck
|
| Falling out of your favour
|
| White powder, speaks louder
|
| Than any words you’re saying
|
| My flower turned sour
|
| I found the petals at the end of the bed
|
| «It's just media-types» — «You know what they’re like»
|
| Well yeah, I do, but I never pictured you with them
|
| Coming in from the cold, you’re losing your hold
|
| On a part of me you’d stolen
|
| I’ve stopped calling you when I’m drunk
|
| I’ve taken the time to hear the one
|
| Voice that’s telling me that…
|
| …you don’t really care, I’m getting there
|
| I’m almost at the point of no return
|
| But there’s a light that burns
|
| White powder, speaks louder
|
| Than any words you’re saying
|
| My flower turned sour
|
| I found the petals at the end of the bed
|
| But there’s a light that burns |