作词 : Difford, Tilbrook
(Difford/Tilbrook) 
We talk about each other on our wrap around couch, 
And live out all the romance in our little town house. 
I never fit the shower and she never sews the threads, 
And so we find our feelings in other people's beds. 
And if the grass seems greener, but it turns out to be blue 
The Garden of 
Eden isn't quite the place for you. 
Don't be surprised if 
I'm gone under the spell 
Of some other witches' wand ringing someone else's bell, someone else's bell 
Meeting on the motorway, your lover boy blue 
Steaming up the windows with your last breath of youth. 
Don't you think 
I see it? 
Your handbag's full of notes 
I'm feeling like the punch line in someone's private joke. 
And if the grass seems greener, but it turns out to be blue 
The Garden of 
Eden isn't quite the place for you. 
Don't be surprised if 
I'm gone under the spell 
Of some other witches' wand ringing someone else's bell, someone else's bell 
Our eyes don't seem to contact, never much to say, 
Except perhaps “excuse me” or “pass me the ashtray” 
I see him waiting for you as you go off to work, 
I'm left to draw conclusions while 
I button up my shirt. 
And if the grass seems greener, but it turns out to be blue 
The Garden of 
Eden isn't quite the place for you. 
Don't be surprised if 
I'm gone under the spell 
Of some other witches' wand ringing someone else's bell 
Someone else's bell...
Someone else's bell... 
Someone else's bell...
Someone else's bell...