She dreams china white behind her eyes of china blue

Her future wrapped in velvet and her memories wrapped in warm cotton wool



And the coffee grounds

Are burying the hours that she killed

In another murder of a day



Her patience starts to crumble

Like a rock that turns to sand

And time breaks down to seconds

When you're waiting on a man



She's checking out the doorway while she's checking out the guy

Whose drunk imagination is climbing up the ladder of her silk clad thigh



And the cigarettes

Are burning up the hours that she killed

In another murder of a day



Her patience starts to crumble

Like a rock that turns to sand

And time breaks down to seconds

When you're waiting on a man



It seems so long since yesterday

The time goes by so slow

When you're waiting on a manwaiting on a man to show



She shivers in a cold sweat that she's trying to ignore

As she wraps her shaking fingers round the loose change by the phone

She needs him more than she'll admit and more than others need to know

She hopes the knots that tie her stomach are only butterflies

The time goes by so slow

When you're waiting on a manwaiting on a man to show.



She prays that no one pays attention

As she punches out the call

As she fumbles with the number

That the panic still doesn't show

She prays the lights stay green all night

She prays the traffic doesn't slow

And the knots that tie her stomach are only butterflies



Only butterfliesfly by every day

While your waiting on a manwaiting on a man to show



There he stands behind the door

She reaches for her coat to go

And she wanders away in a dream

She wanders away to a dream



As she threads her way home through the neon washed alleyways

She flirts with the shadows and skirts round the victims

Of a night that'll sleep through the day

That casts out it's refugees and throws out it's debris



She turns the key in a lock to a fairy tale world

That she guards with her ghosts of faithful familiars

Who attend to her shrine in a patchwork cathedral

Observing the ritual with silent compassion and prayers



On the candlelit edges of a tightening circle

She arranges the photographs faded and yellowing

Memories left of her friends and her family

Respectfully turned to the wall



She turns up the sound on a second hand radio

And drowns out the noise of the world that she lives in

Her conscience her witness her life is her courtroom

And the man she left waiting

Is waiting to murder a day



(written by tony banks and fishfrom the 1991 album 'still' by tony banksvirgintcv 2658)