It's a cold call to enemy soil  Past the tight frame  Behind which, in disgust, you recoil  When you said to leave a message at the tone  I know you were hoping for more  Than a click and a dial tone  But I don't know what to say  I guess it's all the same  Reason I pick my scabs  I know you don't want to hear about that  Especially in august  When you're taking a break  From an open season  Of listening to people like me  Whine and complain  Well, I guess I just wanted a feeling from this call  To feel like I did when I touched her skin  The few times it didn't crawl  The same reason I write checks from long dead accounts  I'm sending one to the phone company now  To cover the cost of these long distance bouts  With the answer machine  In your empty house