Lost

Picture this 2.30 on the hottest night in June He awakes for no reason and checks his watch by the moon And his mouth feels as dry as his eyes as he struggles to rise And stops to contemplate his wife's thighs as he does up his flies He finds his slippers where he left them under the chair behind the 2 cups and an old copy of marie claire He switches the on the coffee machine that of course works like a dream Catches sight of his reflection in the silver surface sheen And It's a face he knows well although it should look less abused With all these moisturisers and the skin products he's used As he moves through the kitchen, his homage to brushed steel Across the new pine flooring that's plastic but looks real Past the plasma with the widescreen and the cinema surround sound And he stops on his favourite spot by the window and looks down On the orange lit street at the edge of the private car park Where his Audi TT is waiting safely in the dark Keeping it all inside of you Something will have to give And if you could you'll take it back But you lose your way in the way you live Now he can hear wind chimes tinkling out on the balcony And his phone beeping out a text message in the same key He checks it and it's Jill who used to be his secretary Before they started an affair and things began to get really scary Now his wife Mary is getting weary of his lies Like she's read the whole sordid story in his eyes It doesn't help that Jill's now saying that she's 2 weeks late His mental state is really starting to deteriorate He never knew how he got so out of his depth Or why he's broken more than all these promises kept And it's been ages since he slept Properly, his sleeps now broken by these dreams of extra-marital activity Trying to recapture the rapture that he used to get from his material possessions And endless retail therapy sessions Shoulda listened to what his dad said before he died The best things in life are the ones you can't buy son Keeping it all inside of you Something will have to give Wish you could buy a ticket back But you lose your way in the way you live He used to feel so safe up here in his shrine to Ikea Away from the shouts and the louts and the girls with the over-painted pouts And the queers and the dykes and the kids in their box-fresh Nikes Delivering rocks to the house across the street on rusty mountain bikes Aah aah Aah aah aaahh He used to feel so safe up here in his shrine to Ikea Away from the shouts and the louts and the girls with the over-painted pouts And the queers and the dykes and the kids in their box-fresh Nikes Delivering rocks to the house across the street on rusty mountain bikes Aah aah Aah aah aaah