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Picture this: two thirty on the hottest night in |
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June He awaits for no reason and checks his watch by the moon |
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And his mouth feels as dry as his eyes as he struggles to rise |
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And stops to contemplate his (wife's?) eyes as he does up his flies |
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He finds his slippers where he left them under the chair |
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Behind the two cups and an old copy of |
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Marie Claire |
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And he switches on the coffee machine that, of course, works like a dream |
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Catches sight of his reflection in the silver surface sheen |
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And it's a face he knows well, although it should look less abused, |
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With all these moisturisers and the skin products he used |
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As he moves through the kitchen his homage to brush steel, |
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Across the new pine flooring that's plastic but looks real |
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Past the plasma with the wide screen and cinema surround sound |
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And he stops at his favourite spot by the window and looks down |
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On the orange lit street at the edge of the private car park |
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Where his |
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Audi TT is waiting safely in the dark (safely in the dark) |
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Keeping it all inside of you (inside of you) |
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Something will have to give |
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And if you could, you'll take it back |
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But you lose your way in the way you live |
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Now he can hear windchimes tinkling out on the balcony |
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And his phone beeping out a text message in the same key |
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He checks it and it's |
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Jill who used to be his secretary |
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Before they started an affair and things began to get really scary |
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Now his wife |
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Mary's getting wary of his lies |
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Like she's read the whole sordid story in his eyes |
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It doesn't help that |
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Jill's now saying that she's two weeks late, |
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His mental state is really starting to deteriorate |
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He never knew how he got so out of his depth |
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Or why he's broken more than all these promises kept |
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And it's been ages since he's slept properly |
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His sleep's now broken by these dreams of extra marital activity |
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Trying to recapture the rapture he used to get |
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From his material possessions and endless retail therapy sessions |
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Should have listened to what his dad said before he died "The best things in life are the ones you can't buy, son" |
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Keeping it all inside of you (inside of you) |
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Something will have to give |
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Wish you could buy a ticket back (a ticket back) |
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But you lose your way in the way you live |
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He used to feel so safe up here in his shrine to |
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Ikea Away from the shouts and the louts, and the girls with the overpainted pouts |
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And the queers and the dykes and the kids in their box-fresh |
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Nike's Delivering rocks to the house across the street on rusty mountain bikes |
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He used to feel so safe up here in his shrine to |
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Ikea Away from the shouts and the louts, and the girls with the overpainted pouts |
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And the queers and the dykes and the kids in their box-fresh |
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Nike's Delivering rocks to the house across the street on rusty mountain bikes |
