In a top floor flat
In the corner of the city
Waiting for your hair to dry

Sitting through a pile of clean clothes
Waithing at a bus-stop for a downport to pass
How long will this last?

Washing up with cold water while you're in the bath
Resisting the temptation to look through the crack
Of the bathroom door
Though I've seen it before

Carpentry and magazines
Flights of stairs and wooden creaks
You've been calling to me

Long hauls and steep streets
Places I never reach
It's just a figure of speech

Washing up with cold water while you're in the bath
Resisting the temptation to look through the crack
Of the bathroom door
Though I've seen it before

And the nights just get harder
Synapses like brick walls
And my sensations are suspended
And I wish I could love you
Like I wanted to love you

I'm falling to bits
But I'll get used to it