You know that you're in trouble when your lover calls you "mate" Even if it's absent-minded they're still trying out the sound of it Like anyone with any sense I always think the worst And obsess about the detail because therein lies the truth I knew the clues were there – I knew the looks, I knew the tones I knew the childish lines of clipped wings, of shadows and of stones And how there are no happy endings, things just end or carry on Until they quietly burn out But 18 months is still a lifetime and the stories get confused I'll give it one last summing up and then I'll bury it for good, maybe Before it fades to perfect, before it fades to my fault Even if it really was We found you things for your new house to make a little home I turned our room around to try to turn it back to my room All the headlines read “Disaster!”, I said "Oh, you hadn't heard?" And you said "Why do you have to pick at me? Why do you always have to pick at me?"
Could you hear it snap? The final thread. The benefit of the doubt You said "I don't feel what I felt". I'm still surprised you ever did With your blinkers off and your laugh set free it was only time and entropy And you can't be everywhere But not a bad word and not a villain. If there's no villain, then there's no victim But oh those wellings up of love I got – I'd bound across like some loping dog And you'd fluster and you'd fend me off, but I think you must've liked it Or the stifled scream of disbelief – a cold hand up my jacket sleeve You following my finger around, as if you'd really bite it Now I'll stand aside for anyone, I won't beg and I won't choose And I've got used to being this way, just like I was used to you And should I not recover, if it's safety now for good – Well I'd have taken that before