i'm a phantom
pulling in at the station
leaving little trail
i’m a phantom
picked up in a real car
its presence large as life
the holiday you’re due to go on
i’ve been there and it’s all right
but not for anyone who’s travelling alone
letting down your guard
and telling me there’s nothing wrong but boredom
fork
spoon
knife
back at mine
lash the bolts across the door
throw up on the laminate floor of my life
back at mine
lash the bolts across the door
throw up on the never-quite-clean floor of my life