Lost

Picture this: two thirty on the hottest night in June He awaits for no reason and checks his watch by the moon And his mouth feels as dry as his eyes as he struggles to rise And stops to contemplate his [wife's?] eyes as he does up his flies He finds his slippers where he left them under the chair Behind the two cups and an old copy of Marie Claire And he switches on the coffee machine that, of course, works like a dream Catches sight of his reflection in the silver surface sheen And it's a face he knows well, although it should look less abused, With all these moisturisers and the skin products he used As he moves through the kitchen his homage to brush steel, Across the new pine flooring that's plastic but looks real Past the plasma with the wide screen and cinema surround sound And he stops at his favourite spot by the window and looks down On the orange lit street at the edge of the private car park Where his Audi TT is waiting safely in the dark (safely in the dark) Keeping it all inside of you (inside of you) Something will have to give And if you could, you'll take it back But you lose your way in the way you live Now he can hear windchimes tinkling out on the balcony And his phone beeping out a text message in the same key He checks it and it's Jill who used to be his secretary Before they started an affair and things began to get really scary Now his wife Mary's getting wary of his lies Like she's read the whole sordid story in his eyes It doesn't help that Jill's now saying that she's two weeks late, His mental state is really starting to deteriorate He never knew how he got so out of his depth Or why he's broken more than all these promises kept And it's been ages since he's slept properly His sleep's now broken by these dreams of extra marital activity Trying to recapture the rapture he used to get From his material possessions and endless retail therapy sessions Should have listened to what his dad said before he died "The best things in life are the ones you can't buy, son" Keeping it all inside of you (inside of you) Something will have to give Wish you could buy a ticket back (a ticket back) But you lose your way in the way you live He used to feel so safe up here in his shrine to Ikea Away from the shouts and the louts, and the girls with the overpainted pouts And the queers and the dykes and the kids in their box-fresh Nike's Delivering rocks to the house across the street on rusty mountain bikes He used to feel so safe up here in his shrine to Ikea Away from the shouts and the louts, and the girls with the overpainted pouts And the queers and the dykes and the kids in their box-fresh Nike's Delivering rocks to the house across the street on rusty mountain bikes