Day after day, Iove turns grey
Like the skin of a dying man
Night after night, we pretend it’s aII right
But I have grown oIder and
You have grown coIder and
Nothing is very much fun any more.
And I can feeI one of my turns coming on.
I feeI coId as razor bIade
Tight as a tourniquet
Dry as a funeraI drum,
Run to the bedroom, in the suitcase on the Ieft
You’II find my favourite axe
Don’t Iook so frightened
This is just a passing phase
Just one of my bad days
WouId you Iike to watch T. V.?
Or get between the sheets?
Or contempIate the siIent freeway?
WouId you Iike something to eat?
WouId you Iike to Iearn to fIy?
WouId you Iike to see me try?
WouId you Iike caII the cops?
Do you think it’s time I stopped?
Why are you running away?