Blindfolded — this is no parlour game. Unfold me so I am free again. A random phrase is as good as any. You said you want to leave, but I saw you standing there. I look for a reprieve, but then you just swished your hair. You live in a modern building. I like to visit. Men wrestle on the pavement outside. I find it unusual. A random phrase is as good as any. You said you’d get your coat, but I saw you standing there. Your hands were in your pockets. How can you call this fair?
Why do I long for a life that I already have? When I’m out I must be out of my bloody mind. It was a touching rendition — I heard you singing in the kitchen, but have you heard my ‘Superstition’? I don’t know your motives yet and, though we’ve just met, now I’m as far away as I can get. I struggle to define it: I don’t know your motives yet. Why do I long for a life that I already have?