Day after day Love turns gray Like the skin on a dying man Night after night We pretend it's all right But I have grown older And you have grown colder And nothing is very much fun, anymore And I can feel One of all my turns coming on I feel Cold as a razor blade Tight as a tourniquet Dry as a funeral drum Run to the bedroom In the suitcase on the left You'll find my favorite axe Don't look so frightened This is just a passing phase One of my bad days Would you like to watch TV? Or get between the sheets? Or contemplate the silent freeway? Would you like something to eat? Would you like to learn to fly? Would you like to see me try? Would you like to call the cops? Do you think it's time I stopped? Why are you running away?