Living in my best friend's pocket
Been looking at my life
All the time, all the time
How can I do my work?
Always looking over my shoulder

     When everything falls apart
     When you make a false start
     Then you can't turn the pages
     And you can't find the door
     When you're nobody's baby
     Not even close to pulling through

We fill up stolen hours,
Hunger for the touch of money
Building crooked towers
on the faultline, faultline
When I came running to you
I was following the light from a dead star

     When everything falls apart
     When you meet a false heart
     Then you can't turn the pages
     And you can't find the door
     When you're nobody's baby
     Not even close to pulling through


-----------------------------------------------------------
--- James Anthony Peter Matthew Mark Luke John Bowditch ---
-------------- pfgumby@yoyo.cc.monash.edu.au --------------
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----- And the piano smells like a piano,              -----
----- And the microphone smells like a microphone,    -----
----- And they sit at the bar and put bread in my jar -----
----- and it gets all soggy and sinks to the bottom.  -----
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