Coming down again
Won't you leave a trampoline
At the foot, of the stairs?
So I won't break my neck
Falling out, of your favour

White powder, speaks louder
Than any words you're saying
My flower, turned sour
I found the petals at the end, of the bed

It's just 'media-types'
You know what they're like
Well yeah, I do, but I never pictured you with them
Coming in from the cold
You're losing your hold
On a part of me you'd stolen

I've stopped, calling you when I'm drunk
I've taken the time to hear the one
Voice that's telling me
You don't really care
I'm getting there
I'm almost at the point of no return

But there's a light that burns

White powder, speaks louder
Than any words you're saying
My flower, turned sour
I found the petals at the end, of the bed

It's just 'media-types'
You know what they're like
Well yeah, I do, but I never pictured you with them
Coming in from the cold
You're losing your hold
On a part of me you'd stolen

It's just 'media-types'
You know what they're like
Well yeah, I do, but I never pictured you with them
Coming in from the cold
You're losing your hold
On a part of me you'd stolen

But there's a light that burns