She dreams china white behind her eyes of china blue Her future wrapped in velvet and her memories wrapped in warm cotton Wool
And the coffee grounds Are burying the hours that she killed In another murder of a day
Her patience starts to crumble Like a rock that turns to sand And time breaks down to seconds When you're waiting, waiting on a man, waiting on a man
She's checking out the doorway while she's checking out the guy Whose drunk imagination is climbing up the ladder of her silk clad thigh
And the cigarettes Are burning up the hours that she killed In another murder of a day
Her patience starts to crumble Like a rock that turns to sand And time breaks down to seconds When you're waiting, waiting on a man, waiting on a man, waiting on a Man
It seems so long since yesterday The time goes by so slow When you're waiting on a man, waiting on a man to show
She shivers in a cold sweat that she's trying to ignore, As she wraps her shaking fingers round the loose change by the phone, She needs him more than she'll admit and more than others need to know, She hopes the knots that tie her stomach are only butterflies, The time goes by so slow When you're waiting on a man, waiting on a man to show.
She prays that no one pays attention As she punches out the call, As she fumbles with the number That the panic still doesn't show, She prays the lights stay green all night She prays the traffic doesn't slow, And that the knots that tie her stomach are only butterflies,
Only butterflies, fly by every day While you're waiting on a man, waiting on a man to show
There he stands behind the door, She reaches for her coat to go, And she wanders away in a dream She wanders away to a dream
She threads her way home through the neon washed alleyways She flirts with the shadows and skirts round the victims Of a night that'll sleep through the day That casts out it's refugees and throws out it's debris,
She turns the key in a lock to a fairytale world That she guards with her ghosts of faithful familiars Who attend to her shrine in the patchwork cathedral Observing the ritual with silent compassion and prayers
On the candlelit edges of a tightening circle She arranges the photographs faded and yellowing The memories left of her friends and her family Respectfully turned to the wall
She turns up the sound on a second hand radio And drowns out the noise of the world that she lives in Her conscience her witness her life is her courtroom And the man she left waiting is waiting to murder a day
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