i suppose you think it should be another write-off
the way that everything you do to me is
why should i cry, and why should you care
all your feelings are purely subjective
but there i am time and time again
beside you supporting,..not a question in my heart
not the difference captured in my head
i presume the matter's unimportant
the way low servants die
not a flower on bed, and replaced in a weeks time
but what if that clock stop ticking?
would you ever feel the convulsion i'd have?
or just the nagging thread of more work to do?
so tell me my darhling,- what am i to you?
maybe i need the assurance
maybe i'm a neurotic loathing beast
and more then i ever i bet that that's true
but maybe , just maybe i'm right,
and things should've been handled differently