Point of Collapse

They're checking for traps for one of the chaps

In the backroom Jimmy's counting the stamps

Death in the living room, his favorite sport

A happy end

The point of collapse

There's no space in my car, all my papers are false

What am I doing? You're carrying a bag

In a free climbing, two-timing

Three legged waltz

Can I leave a message? But don't use my voice

Don't trust a man, don't give him the choice

Of removing his jacket when he says he's one of the boys