| I am dead on the end of your wire
|
| Till you twist and pull it
|
| The tension is all that we’ll ever have
|
| May as well use it
|
| The lifeline is cold and abstract
|
| It’s thin and easy to snap
|
| All that we control and all we constrain
|
| Is cruelty, bitterness, and pain
|
| I am remote from you now
|
| Remote as old diary phrases
|
| Distant as satellites
|
| Absence itself
|
| Warmth is a curious thing
|
| Escapes at the merest chance
|
| Friction it so dearly loves
|
| And friction oh it hates
|
| The lifeline is cold and abstract
|
| It’s thin and easy to snap
|
| All that we control and all we constrain
|
| Is cruelty — bitterness — and pain!
|
| I am remote from you now
|
| Remote as old diary phrases
|
| Distant as satellites
|
| I am remote from you now
|
| Remote as old diary phrases
|
| Distant as satellites
|
| Absence itself
|
| All that we control and all we constrain
|
| Is cruelty, bitterness, and pain
|
| All that we control and all we constrain
|
| Is cruelty — bitterness — and pain!
|
| I am remote from you now
|
| Remote as old diary phrases
|
| Distant as satellites, well
|
| I am remote from you now
|
| Remote as old diary phrases
|
| Distant as satellites
|
| Absence itself
|
| I am remote from you now
|
| I am remote from you now
|
| I am remote now, I am remote now
|
| I am remote from you now
|
| I am remote now, I am remote now
|
| I am remote from you now |