I've grown to used to an empty bed and I think that I've started growing fond I've got no endless nights of concentrated passion streaming me along And I don't mind that No I can't find that reason beaming, seeming to grow only slowly brighter till it's dead And this is always how it ends We can't even decently concede about these little things let alone still be friends Until your heart mends And then we'll say it never mattered Though you were shattered, tattered, climbing broken ladders heading nowhere, Only up so you could jump and land, Break your legs and fail to stand up again But that's life for a nine to five kind of lifestyle Living if you'd call it living swept into a pile And emptied out into your file They've got their thumbs pressed against you They'll turn all your friends against you! So if you don't ever want to sever these connections I suggest on turning back now Before you have those friends to spare Never let them know you care Because if you do and then you lose then what the hell have you got left except despair?
And that won't get you anywhere At least not far enough away from here