Killing Me

23 degrees off kilter

Spinning with my cup of tea

Grey skies, sleepy eyes as usual

Morning paper says I?m free

Late again no time to witness

Spring flowers dance on this cold wind

Peeling poster sex reminds me

Why pierced tongue ticket man, just grinned

This is killing me

I feel so alone in this crowd

Is this really me

And will this be my child

Cold cash comfort from my pocket

Lights Eastern European eyes

See little grace in god?s behaviour

But for the grace of me go I

Clocking in while Mr new tie

Tells me things about his wife

Morning coffee three new e-mails

Still waiting for the fax, of life

This is killing me

I feel so alone in this crowd

Is this really me

And will this be my child

I want to see you

I want to feel you

Not the image of you that this journey?s projecting

I want to see you

I want to feel you

Not the Image of you that this journey?s projecting

Not the shadow of you solitude is protecting

This is killing me

I feel so alone in this crowd

Is this really me

And will this be my child