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I get home late but I can't sleepno message on my machinethe 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 linespictures 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 winebut it doesn't help to pass the time. I don't know how far we fellI don't know if this is hellbut I can hear the funeral bells.
Raking through the old fag-ends of forgotten conversations - they're burning on my lips again. and from the note left on my doorI know that I should have called - you won't be coming home at all.