I get home late but i can’t sleep, no message on my machine, the red light eyes me knowingly. and from the note left on my door i know that i shouldn’t call – you won’t be home tonight at all.
‘cos when i read between the lines, pictures of you hi-jack my mind. i don’t know where you’re going but i know you’re wearing your make-up – lipstick letters always say too much.
Sit and watch the cars go by with a cheap bottle of wine, but it doesn’t help to pass the time. i don’t know how far we fell, i don’t know if this is hell, but i can hear the funeral bells.
[chorus]
Raking through the old fag-ends of forgotten conversations – they’re burning on my lips again. and from the note left on my door, i know that i should have called – you won’t be coming home at all.
[chorus]
