Day after day love turns grey
like the skin of adying man
night after night we pretend it's allright
but i have grown older and
you have grown colder and
nothing is very much fun anymore

and i can feel one of my turns coming on
and i can feel
cold as a rezorblade
tight as a tourmented
dry as a funeral drum...

run to the bedroom!
in the suitcase on the left
you'll find my favourite axe
don't look so frightened
this is just a passing phase
one of my bad days
would you like to watch t.v?
or get between the sheets
or contemplate the silent freeway?
would you like something to eat?
would you like to learn to fly?
would you like to see me try?

oooh
would you like to call the cops?
do you think it's time i stopped?

why are you running away??