But let's talk about you for a minute
With the vomit in your gullet
From a half-bottle of vodka that you'd stolen from the optic
In the back seat of your car because it wasn't safe to start it
"You're far to f**ed to drive" were the words that you imparted
And the woollen dress that clung so tight
To the contours of your body
And the dead gra** stuck to fibres
From us rolling in the lay-by
We're pa**ed to dog-haired blankets
That protected the bench seat covers
And a crucifix was hung from rear-view mirror by your mother
I'm leaving my body to science; not medical but physics
Drag my corpse through the airport and lay me limp on the left wing
Drop me at the highest point and trace a line around the dent I leave in the ground:
That'll be the initial of the one you'll marry now I'm not around
I flew for seven hours
The sky didn't once turn black
You know I'd sooner go down in a ball of flame
Than I would lay here and be bored to d**h
All's well that ends
I wake from sleep, my head and shoulders wet against the window
A frost had formed and melted, soaked me right through to my collarbone
If you were given the option of dying painlessly in peace at forty-five
But with a lover at your side, after a full and happy life
Is this something that would interest you?
Would this interest you at all?