| (difford/tilbrook) | |
| Up in the morning | |
| Politely yawning | |
| There's frost on the roof of the car | |
| First cigarette puffs | |
| Gold links in my cuffs | |
| Egg on the shirt of my heart | |
| Fingerprints in the dust with my name | |
| Squint my eyes to see from my fame | |
| Spot the words that fall from my lines | |
| The deafness hides the light from the blind | |
| Stop starting journey | |
| The road returns me | |
| Back to the world in the evening | |
| The stage rehearsals | |
| Voice on the circles | |
| Blah blah my way to the celing | |
| I can't see the walls from the chairs | |
| Are there people sitting out there | |
| Feed me with a frown or a laugh | |
| Featureless the faces that ask | |
| Tonight i'm cracking | |
| I'm murder acting | |
| Footlit the visual of my lines | |
| I'll smoke and drink it | |
| I'll eat and think it | |
| Miserable the murder plot unwinds |
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