I thought it could change, I'd wake up one morning & find nothing to rearrange

I thought we'd escape
I packed a fishing line & counted on it
But dreaming is for moonrise
& moonlight also ails those tired eyes
I treat him like a lady
I treat him as I would he unto me
Give Rose rose-seller a run for her money
With silicone & poetry
But it's the end of me
I thought it could change
I'd wake up one morning & find nothing to rearrange
I couldn't get there

Behind walls of Sunday papers
Here I am
& here I stand
Here in my kitchen where I'm familiar with every brand
Here I am
A front line with labels where I witness custard's last stand
Here I am

- "Bulimic beats", Catatonia