| Classic FM in my earbuds
|
| Awake with an achy tooth
|
| I see a spider silhouetted on the dresser
|
| Caught in the glow of a text
|
| Who in the hell would be messaging you
|
| At three-o'-bloody-clock in the morning?
|
| The screen of your mobile goes dark before I can draw focus
|
| You’re snoring like a pig
|
| I creep around the bed and
|
| Key in your passcode
|
| Our daughter’s date of birth
|
| To have all my fears confirmed
|
| With a heart emoji
|
| A heart emoji
|
| And the words «I miss you too»
|
| We were assistant bar managers at the Carling Academy
|
| Paying for our degrees, serving piss to the hordes
|
| On a seemingly never-ending loop
|
| I hadn’t been working there very long
|
| You were giving me a bollocking for pouring a Guinness wrong
|
| When the announcement came over the PA
|
| To evacuate the building
|
| Huddled under your parka
|
| In the doorway of Cash Converters
|
| You had the cheek to ask me on a date
|
| I said, I’d not consider it
|
| Until you apologise
|
| Apologise, apologise
|
| And mean it
|
| Get the carving knife from the dishwasher
|
| To stick through your heart
|
| And take a backward step
|
| To feel the touch of something cold and wet
|
| And to my horror
|
| To my horror
|
| There’s a slug squashed between my toes |