Crouched and cold on a slate grey day in the Southern world
Self obsessed on a crumbling couch for hours
Quite alone as is usual for the things we are
Quite unable to go beyond what’s ours
And it seems like nothing can penetrate through the outer skin
And it feels like nothing on earth has ever got in
Locked for life with a friend I’ve known for a thousand years
Known like no-one I’ve ever known before
We’re as close as two coats of paint on a wind-swept wall
But I’ll never know what sits at the other’s call
And it seems like nothing can penetrate through the outer skin
And it feels like nothing on earth has ever got in
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