Dark clouds fly low, sky's sold me for the rain
To choke me down until the world turns grey.
Until fairweather, you; that bright gold stain,
The fine glass doll, miracle's giveaway.

Life's in your laugh, by window or by wire,
The world you've promised through those glitter eyes;
Yet still you're dancing merry by the fire
While in the cold I'm left to crystallise.

Time's run, and 'friend's' a label that tastes sour.
Was it worth it? The end, I mean, for I'm
The means for you to see a ballroom hour
And when I'm gone, to treat it like a crime.

You knew, my dear. The knife is up your sleeve;
It's common knowledge that I'm past reprieve.
(The love's the worst - that I'll still watch you leave.)