I get home from work and
you're still standing in your dressing gown
well what am I to do?
I know all the things around your head
and what they do to you
what are we coming to?
what are we gonna do?
blame it on a black star
blame it on a falling sky
blame it on a satellite
that beams me home
the troubled words of a troubled mind
I try to understand what is eating you
I try to stay awake, but it's 58hours
since that I slept with you
what are we coming to?
I just don't know anymore
I get on the train and I just stand about
now that I don't think of you
I keep falling over, I keep passing out
when I see a face like you
what am I coming to?
I'm gonna melt down
blame it on a black star
blame it on a falling sky
blame it on a satellite
that beams me home
