You expected my war diaries, but time ran out and I, I let you down
Small thanks now written in French is no shorthand for this thing gave me writer's cramp
Another dream about shapeshifting
Well we move with such elegance, with such grace
With all our dignity just in place
Deer die with their eyes wide open, eyes wide open, eyes wide open
Deer die with their eyes wide open
Drawing tiny little pictures of skeletons to get across the sense of impending doom
And the leaves... major leagues (?) look like the foxes on the hard shoulder
And for some reason I think that I have drifted from the story to the bypass of the town I have visited, so go step back and track for all the sighs we'd ever sighed
Deer die with their eyes wide open, eyes wide open, eyes wide open
Deer die with their eyes wide open
Drawing tiny little pictures of skeletons to get across the sense of impending doom and I am 17 pages through this notebook now and there are little more than pictures of how I see you in an X-ray machine
It's more like a television screen
And you're in a rut, and I know that you know what I mean
And then the realisation hits that not even two dozen choirs could save us now
Turn up on your doorstep
Feeling like roadkill
Tasting like postage stamps
(?)
I could live alone
With everything I ever wrote
