Black Star
I get home from work andYou're still standing in your dressing gownWell what am I to do?I know all the things around your headAnd what they do to youWhat are we coming to?What are we gonna do?
Blame it on the black starBlame it on the falling skyBlame it on the satellite that beams me home
The troubled words of a troubled mindI try to understand what is eating youI try to stay awake but its58 hours since that I last slept with youWhat are we coming to?I just don't know anymore
Blame it on the black starBlame it on the falling skyBlame it on the satellite that beams me home
I get on the train and I just standAbout now that I don't think of youI keep falling overI keep passing out when I see a face like youWhat am I coming to?I'm gonna melt down
Blame it on the black starBlame it on the falling skyBlame it on the satellite that beams me homeThis is killing me