Do you remember all the fumbling in the darkness?
All the wicked bargains we would strike?
I've heard that distance makes things plain,
but I couldn't tell you now,
oh, what you did or what you didn't like.

If there's a fine line between love and hate,
I must've landed on one side, but which? I can't get straight.
Spare me the indignity of having to ask
and close the door. What's past is past.

Roll out the trundle bed and let me lie beside you.
I will try to keep my thick mouth closed
so I can't say I feel ashamed and I don't call you
by that part of our name no one knows.

There's been a pall cast over everything,
and though I've rung every bell that still could ring,
I haven't found the impetus to make myself laugh,
but the joke's in there somewhere,
like a toaster in a bath.

And I have flung myself into other flings.
They always go to shit!
There's this dream that I keep having.
You're in bad trouble in it--
with your mouth to my gut
and I'm overcome.
You know well what things like that can do.

You can kid yourself you're over them,
but that doesn't make it true.