I get home from work and you're still standing in your dressing gown well what am I to do? I know all the things around your head and what they do to you what are we coming to? what are we gonna do?
blame it on a black star blame it on a falling sky blame it on a satellite that beams me home
the troubled words of a troubled mind I try to understand what is eating you I try to stay awake, but it's 58hours since that I slept with you what are we coming to? I just don't know anymore
I get on the train and I just stand about now that I don't think of you I keep falling over, I keep passing out when I see a face like you what am I coming to? I'm gonna melt down
blame it on a black star blame it on a falling sky blame it on a satellite that beams me home
