Sipping from a broken glass looking through
The room warped, your nose bent
Is that Mike Willesee
It's all in your mind
Make it up
Well I wish you'd drop it
Nonetheless I think you know best
I'm out of words, I'm out of breath
Another hour, every week
I don't know just where to go from the waiting room
And I still see my reflection
In a photo of you taken by the front window
It's to easy now to forget
The revelations in your head
Nonetheless I think you know best
I'm out of words, I'm out of breath
Another hour, every week
I don't know just where to go
It's when you're taking a backseat drive
There you'll realise too soon
That nine-to-five with the look in your eyes
Of the afternoon
In the airport line, you wine and dine
Fly me to the moon
My time with you is like a southerly breeze
From February to June
But nonetheless I think you know best
I'm out of words, I'm out of breath
Another hour, every week
I don't know just where to go from the waiting room
From the waiting room
From the waiting room
From the waiting room