Day after day, love turns grey
Like the skin of a dying man
Night after night, we pretend it's all right
But I have grown older and
You have grown colder and
Nothing is very much fun any more
And I can feel one of my turns coming on
I feel cold as razor blade
Tight as a tourniquet
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
Just 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
Would you like to call the cops
Do you think it's time I stopped
Why are you running away