|
The sound of new machines |
|
Over the junkyard |
|
Ease him into sleep |
|
A bullet to the brain |
|
Means that he drunk hard |
|
Looking for the deep |
|
A stranger he now knows |
|
To be a countess |
|
Wakes him with a start |
|
And asks please take me home |
|
To Daddy's address |
|
You can have my heart |
|
A stranger he now knows |
|
To be unstable |
|
Writhes with need and fears |
|
A look of pure dirt |
|
Across the table |
|
Even so he hears |
|
The alarm in his head |
|
Moving into the red |
|
Sounding like punches and knives |
|
Hear the voices, they cry |
|
It's likely you'll die |
|
Pounded by punches and knives |
|
The lady did not show |
|
Her recognition |
|
Of his firm replies |
|
Just took control and moved |
|
Into position |
|
Sparks in magnet eyes |
|
So with one simple no |
|
It's the green light to go |
|
What if the answer was so |
|
A week's loving quite dark |
|
And out goes the spark |
|
Then she'd have finished with me |
|
A stare he could see now |
|
May signal violence |
|
Should he make a move |
|
A sweetly pleading smile |
|
Prompts only silence |
|
Got no point to prove |
|
A stare he could now see |
|
Went quite a distance |
|
Hiding make-up tears |
|
With loud and knowing tones |
|
Of dark insistence |
|
This is what he hears |
