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Picture this, 2:30 on the hottest night in JuneHe awakes for no reason and checks his watch by the moonAnd his mouth feels as dry as his eyes as he struggles to riseAnd stops to contemplate his wifes thighs as he does up his fliesHe finds his slippers where he left them under the chairBehind the two cups and an old copy of Marie ClaireAnd he switches on the coffee machineThat of course works like a dreamCatches sight of his reflection in the silver surface sheenAnd it's a face he knows well although it should look less abusedWith all these moisturizers and the skin products he's usedAs he moves through the kitchen, his homage to brushed steelAcross the new pine floorin' that's plastic but looks realPast the plasma with the wide screenAnd the cinema surround soundAnd he stops on his favorite spot by the window and looks downOn the orange lit street at the edge of the private car parkWhere his Audi TT is waitin' safely in the darkKeepin' it all inside of youSomethin' will have to giveAnd if you could you'll take it backBut you lose your way in the way you liveLetras de cancionesNow he can hear wind chimes tinklin' out on the balconyAnd his phone beepin' out a text message in the same keyHe checks it and it?s Jill who used to be his secretaryBefore they started an affair and things began to get really scaryNow his wife Mary is gettin' weary of his liesLike she's read the whole sordid story in his eyesIt doesn't help that Jill?s now sayin' that she's two weeks lateHis mental state is really startin' to deteriorateHe never knew how he got so out of his depthOr why he's broken more than all these promises keptAnd it?s been ages since he slept properlyHis sleeps now broken by these dreams of extra-marital activityTryin' to recapture the rapture he used to getFrom his material possessions and endless retail therapy sessionsShoulda listened to what his dad said before he died?The best things in life are the ones you can't buy, son?Keepin' it all inside of youSomethin' will have to giveWish you could buy a ticket backBut you lose your way in the way you liveHe used to feel so safe up here in his shrine to IKEAAway from the shouts and the louts and the girlsWith the over painted poutsAnd the queers and the dykes and the kids in their box fresh NikesDeliverin' rocks to the house across the streetOn rusty mountain bikesHe used to feel so safe up here in his shrine to IKEAAway from the shouts and the louts and the girlsWith the over painted poutsAnd the queers and the dykes and the kids in their box fresh NikesDeliverin' rocks to the house across the streetOn rusty mountain bikes From Letras Mania