Please don't force me to think of you tonight, 
I'm weary and longing for rest. 
I don't know what you're trying to see 
and I don't what to hear it's the best.

    Just jump in your car and drive away
    There's really nothing left to say (anyway)
    Never time to share, always my cross to bear
    Soaked in gin. Another flower to send.

The sewers are steaming with ghosts in the night.
Necromancing the days gone by.
And I walk on the streets that have seen so much.
I wonder if it's I that's alive.

    It's the sin on my hands that I scrub
    Its the admission to this club.
    Its better to fall, than not at all,
    Asleep in the lions den. Another flower to send.

	Do you see them, standing over there?
	Talking about me with their cigarette hair.
	The storm's playing hell with the fog in my head.
	I wish I was dead -- 
        than to carry on with the smoke and mirrors 
	of your floor show life.
	As authentic as a rubber knife.

So I sit here with a pillow for a friend, 
cold but always consoling.
And when you call I don't care at all.
Cos the phones just as dead without your ring.  

    Is there a world outside your eyes?
    If there is would you be surprised?
    I would rather be here with an empty beer
    Than to travel on with empty friends. Another flower to send.
# copyright Joe Johnston