When I get to sleep I'll dream again of canopies and grapes
And wake shaking from the knowledge that the mattress holds your shape
I assume my phone is dead because it hasn't rung for months
If tomorrow is the funeral do you think that you could come?
I could give you back your music and your t-shirts and your socks
Walk to Jazz's house in SOHO cry into her letter box
Spend some time out to resuscitate my soul
Take up smoking and drink carrot juice and grow
Teach the mattress to expel you from its folds
Then dry my eyes and keep on walking til the motion makes me strong
Until one day i realise I don't remember that you're gone
We'll be strangers
who were lovers
I'll recover
It's so weird how time goes on