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There's no heat left underfloor,
A stranger in your bed,
A thousand ears met last night,
And still ring with what you said.
You were cold and you were cruel,
Another round to draw some blood,
Always you choose to talk,
So you don't sink into the mud.
Wash black into the basin,
Set the blood shot through your eyes,
Eat breakfast at the table,
As another morning dies.
Take your body to the street,
In the clothes you wore to dream,
Your legs will stall and falter,
As your brain bursts to the seams.
(I'll take these small chances,
These nights are just for me,
I will stoke the dying embers,
For all the world to see.)
As the pavemnt takes the pressure,
You seek the bending links,
In the chain of friendships you forged,
More hollow than you think.
The day will come full circle,
Surrounded by those friends,
Who took offense to your thoughts,
On which your world depends.
(I'll take these small chances,
These nights are just for me,
I will stoke the dying embers,
For all the world to see.)
(When my pride begins to slip,
And ruin rules my head,
I start to name the faceless
Strangers in my bed).