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23 degrees off kilter |
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Spinning with my cup of tea |
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Grey skies, sleepy eyes as usual |
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Morning paper says I'm free |
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Late again no time to witness |
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Spring flowers dance on this cold wind |
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Peeling poster sex reminds me |
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Why pierced tongue ticket man, just grinned |
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This is killing me |
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I feel so alone in this crowd |
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Is this really me |
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And will this be my child |
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Cold cash comfort from my pocket |
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Lights Eastern European eyes |
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See little grace in god's behaviour |
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But for the grace of me go I |
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Clocking in while Mr new tie |
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Tells me things about his wife |
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Morning coffee three new e-mails |
|
Still waiting for the fax, of life |
|
This is killing me |
|
I feel so alone in this crowd |
|
Is this really me |
|
And will this be my child |
|
I want to see you |
|
I want to feel you |
|
Not the image of you that this journey's projecting |
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I want to see you |
|
I want to feel you |
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Not the Image of you that this journey's projecting |
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Not the shadow of you solitude is protecting |
|
This is killing me |
|
I feel so alone in this crowd |
|
Is this really me |
|
And will this be my child |
