You know that you're in trouble when your lover calls you "mate"
Even if it's absent-minded they're still trying out the sound of it
Like anyone with any sense I always think the worst
And obsess about the detail because therein lies the truth
I knew the clues were there – I knew the looks, I knew the tones
I knew the childish lines of clipped wings, of shadows and of stones
And how there are no happy endings, things just end or carry on
Until they quietly burn out
But 18 months is still a lifetime and the stories get confused
I'll give it one last summing up and then I'll bury it for good, maybe
Before it fades to perfect, before it fades to my fault
Even if it really was
We found you things for your new house to make a little home
I turned our room around to try to turn it back to my room
All the headlines read “Disaster!”, I said "Oh, you hadn't heard?"
And you said "Why do you have to pick at me? Why do you always have to pick at me?"
Could you hear it snap? The final thread. The benefit of the doubt
You said "I don't feel what I felt". I'm still surprised you ever did
With your blinkers off and your laugh set free it was only time and entropy
And you can't be everywhere
But not a bad word and not a villain. If there's no villain, then there's no victim
But oh those wellings up of love I got – I'd bound across like some loping dog
And you'd fluster and you'd fend me off, but I think you must've liked it
Or the stifled scream of disbelief – a cold hand up my jacket sleeve
You following my finger around, as if you'd really bite it
Now I'll stand aside for anyone, I won't beg and I won't choose
And I've got used to being this way, just like I was used to you
And should I not recover, if it's safety now for good –
Well I'd have taken that before