‘Cause I’ve been seeing things out of the corners of my eyes Deep in my peripheral vision every time I try to catch them in my sights I’ve been on jobseeker’s for the last few months Becoming familiar with stale bread and burning through all my funds ‘Cause I thought that, when I was younger, I would be a science-fiction author but Writing about spaceships ain’t gonna pay the rent this autumn I’ll be your last bad bet before you finally give up If you’re a frozen lake, then I’ll be a homeless duck I’ll be your last bad bet before you finally give in It’s a filthy habit that you’d do better than to quit Well I’ve got a friend in Alberta, who I deeply respect She’s training to be a divorce lawyer and planning to marry rich But I guess it is true: I guess I will probably die with you There’s a double coffin in the Atlantic Ocean that’s got room for me and you

Maybe this is a story that we can tell our kids. But if you don't have mine, maybe you can still tell his: The way your hair froze to the pillow; how I can see your breath in our tiny room by the window. Breathe in. Slowly exhale. Look at the state your body's in. Call her up and say you're sorry. Tell her four times not to worry. She cannot see the way that you live. You'll have to tell her another story. Because Carrie's seen your messages, the shit that litters your floor. Set fire to your bedroom Because she don't love you anymore. And they say, out of your window clothes start to fly; a sense of dread that you're gonna die; and against the fire, silhouettes; all your menthol cigarettes, in flames. 'Cause you know that ashes don't change, they only really stay the same, under your fingernails and up beneath your skin.

There’s something in the air that’s been making me sick Spend all my nights just not sleeping A sense of it all crumbling down, the sour taste at the back of my mouth I’ve been saying so long for so long, I’ve been saying so long for so long And all of these thoughts they hang around for too long, and too long I wish the M5 was a mobius strip that I could ride out forever if I didn’t get stuck in traffic All the things I’d like to tell you just crumble up like dust in our attic room, We can sit and talk about our feelings over our family heirlooms, I miss them, too Because I am a plant growing towards an open window and I am the surface of a planet not for humans livable All of these thoughts they fly around like vultures picking at our vacant corpses and I try not to think about it, because if I think too much about it Then everybody that I see from my skylight don’t look too much like me And ever since you moved from your new home, I’ve been seeing in the walls ghosts Pretending to be familiar pieces of furniture when you’re not alone And I’ve been having visions of getting sick, I see the house that I might die in I see old fashioned furnishings, I see the objects you’ll be burdened with And I see myself spitting blood, I see myself on the verge of throwing up I see the skin falling off my bones like I can simply pull it off If the water gets hot enough If the water gets hot enough then maybe we could take a shower together In there we can talk much better. The sound of the falling water Reminds me that I have not had anyone to talk to And I feel alive, everytime that we talk I feel alive There is an empty home a couple of streets away from where you father was born And where you finally moved out and managed to escape. I try not to think about it. Because if I think too much about it Then everybody that I see from my skylight don’t think too much like me And ever since you’ve moved to your new home I’ve been seeing in the walls ghosts Pretending to be familiar pieces of furniture when you’re not alone And they surround you like overly curious but well-intentioned relatives Wide-eyed ask how it’s all been going. I don’t wanna talk about it.