I get home late but I can't sleep, no message on my machine, the red light eyes me knowingly.
And from the note left on my door I know that I shouldn't call - you won't be home tonight at all.

'Cos when I read between the lines, pictures of you hi-jack my mind.
I don't know where you're going but I know you're wearing your make-up -lipstick letters always say too much.

Sit and watch the cars go by with a cheap bottle of wine, but it doesn't help to pass the time.
I don't know how far we fell, I don't know if this is hell, but I can hear the funeral bells.

[REFRÃO]

Raking through the old fag-ends of forgotten conversations -they're burning on my lips again.
And from the note left on my door, I know that I should have called - you won't be coming home at all.

[REFRÃO]