I get home late but I can`t sleep, no message on my machine, the red light eyes me knowingly. And from the note left on my door I know that I shouldn`t call - you won`t be home tonight at all.
`Cos when I read between the lines, pictures of you hi-jack my mind. I don`t know where you`re going but I know you`re wearing your make-up - lipstick letters always say too much.
Sit and watch the cars go by with a cheap bottle of wine, but it doesn`t help to pass the time. I don`t know how far we fell, I don`t know if this is hell, but I can hear the funeral bells.
[CHORUS]
Raking through the old fag-ends of forgotten conversations - they`re burning on my lips again. And from the note left on my door, I know that I should have called - you won`t be coming home at all.
[CHORUS]
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