The House Next to This One (Live at St Pancras Old Church, London, 2012)

It's not even that late

We're not even that drunk

She's looking beautiful but terrified

It's been too quiet too long

In the house next to this one

Who cuts the roses since the old man there died?

She hesitates towards me

God, it starts raining

We both realize she's trapped here for a while at least

I listen for footsteps like a boy truant hiding

Hear the clock chime, her breathing and the rain increase

She laughs at my passport photo from a while ago

Idly glances through Jude the Obscure

Slides it back slowly when she knows that I'm watching

Studies me closely like a true connoisseur

Her sister interrupts then with a phone call from somewhere

I hear crying then silence from out in the hall

I go through her notebook to see what she's thinking

And find a defence for Eve after the fall

But she returns too quickly and catches me looking

I try to explain but give up right away

You couldn't help yourself, could you?

I know you probably would do

But I get the blame for tempting you this way

Then she moves through the shadows

Nursing her candle

So sadly she whispers

"It's growing so dark"

We both watched her light flare

I once thought she'd not care

I knew what to say

Just not where to start

Then she stood in the window

Bathed in a soft glow

Let her hair down and then smiled at me

She was desperately trying to break her own heart

Patiently knowing that soon she'd be free