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(difford/tilbrook) |
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Striking matches and i'm smoking cigarettes |
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Putting on the kettle, playing a cassette |
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Folding up the papers rubbing my eyes |
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Thinking of all that had happened last night |
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The passion, the feelings that soaked in her love |
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And the pools of silence when kisses were sprung |
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Her love levitates me, i'm walking on air |
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Two feet from the carpet, i'll always be there |
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Oooh i'm striking matches it's morning again |
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I look in the mirror i still look the same |
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I'm striking matches it's morning again |
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I look in the mirror i go up in flames |
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Striking matches getting a flame on the stove |
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There's some of her in the teeth of my comb |
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Dirty clothes piled up on the bathroom floor |
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She's silently sleeping, i half close the door |
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I see her beauty laying on my bed |
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I'm warm from within me with what she has said |
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Her love is my balloon, i won't let it down |
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For ever and ever i'll always be proud. |
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I'm a director casting for a part |
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(turn on the light) |
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It's for a soap set here right in my heart. |
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(leave her alone) |
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Shuffle to the window shuffle to the door |
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(don't wake her up) |
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She gets the part i don't want to see anymore |
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(unplug the phone) |
