Banks Tony Still Another Murder Of A Day She dreams china white behind her eyes of china blue Her future wrapped in velvet and her memories wrapped in warm cotton wool And the coffee grounds are burying the hours that she killed in another murder of a day Her patience starts to crumble like a rock that turns to sand and time breaks down to seconds when you're waiting on a man She's checking out the doorway while she's checking out the guy Whose drunk imagination is climbing up the ladder of her silk clad thigh And the cigarettes are burning up the hours that she killed in another murder of a day Her patience starts to crumble like a rock that turns to sand and time breaks down to seconds when you're waiting on a man It seems so long since yesterday The time goes by so slow When you're waiting on a man, waiting on a man to show She shivers in a cold sweat that she's trying to ignore, As she wraps her shaking fingers round the loose change by the phone, She needs him more than she'll admit and more than others need to know, She hopes the knots that tie her stomach are only butterflies, The time goes by so slow When you're waiting on a man, waiting on a man to show She prays that no one pays attention As she punches out the call, As she fumbles with the number That the panic still doesn't show, She prays the lights stay green all night and that the traffic doesn't slow, And that the knots that tie her stomach are only butterflies, Only butterflies, fly by every day When you're waiting on a man, waiting on a man to show There he stands behind the door, She reaches for her coat to go, And she wanders away in a dream She wanders away in a dream As she threads her way home through the neon washed alleyways She flirts with the shadows and skirts round the victims Of a night that'll sleep through the day that cast out its refugees and throws out its debris, She turns the key in a lock to a fairytale world that she guards with her ghosts and her faithful familiars who attend to her shrine in the patchwork cathedral observing the ritual with silent compassion and prayers On the candlelit edges of a tightening circle She arranges the photographs faded and yellowing Memories left of her friends and her family Respectfully turned to the wall She turns up the sound on a second hand radio and drowns out the noise of the world that she lives in Her conscience her witness her life is her courtroom And the man she left waiting is waiting to murder a day |
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