Day after day love turns grey Like the skin of a dying man And night after night we pretend it's all right But I have grown older and You have grown colder And nothing is very much fun any more. And I can feel one of my turns coming on I feel, cold as a razor blade Tight as a tourniquet Dry as a funeral drum, Run to bedroom, in the suitcase on the left You'll find my favourite axe Don't look so frightened This is just a passing phase Just one of my bad days. Would you like to watch TV? Or get between the sheets? Or contemplate the silent freeway? Would you like something to eat? Would you like to learn to fly? Would you? Would you like to see me try? Oh I don't know Would you like to call the cops? Do you think it's time I stopped? Why are you running away?