Montague Terrace (In Blue)

The little clock's stopped ticking now

We're swallowed in the stomached room

The only sound to tear the night

Comes from the man upstairs

His bloated, belching figure stomps

He may crash through the ceiling soon

Outside, trees claw the cold and reach out for the moon

But

We know don't we?

And we'll dream won't we?

Of Montague Terrace in blue

The girl across the hall makes love

Her thoughts lay cold like shattered stone

Her thighs are full of tales to tell of all the nights she's known

Your eyes are like cold fire tonight

The scent of secrets everywhere

A fistful of illusion clutches all our cares

But

We know don't we?

And we'll dream won't we?

Of Montague Terrace in blue

But

We know don't we?

And we'll dream won't we?

Of Montague Terrace in blue

In blue

In blue

In blue

In blue...