One last time in bed for a while, it fucked me up but it made me smile. And Just like Peter Cook these thoughts will end up in a book.

Your lipstick sticks to my cigarette end. We could have made this such a beautiful crescendo. But just like Dudley Moore you went and...

I smoke these cigarettes, they make me feel like something, they remind me there's romance in cancer.

Help me I have no sense of self/ Audrey Coin she told me if I recite these things daily it would help me psychoanalyse these psychopathic tendencies.

I smoke these cigarettes, they make me feel like something, they remind me there's romance in cancer.

We hid in the dark behind the door, choking on nervous laughter. Then just like Dudley Moore I had you rolling on the floor.
I can't remember what you said, too conscious of the air between us. Then just like Peter Cook these thoughts are dead.