When I met you at the front door
You were smiling, you were laughing
With the lights on, you were something
When they died down, you were nothing
As the talk swung off the hinges
You were speaking in a language
That you picked up from a cartoon
Where the hero was a cretin
It's an age thing, this disassembling
This pretending that you're stupid
In the real world when you're writing
You're a poet, you're a cupid
When you're cold, when you're cold,
Do you ever sing so far down
There's a fine line with my patience
And you're walking like a dead man
I should take you to the basement
When I left, sir, you were bleeding
You were shaking, you were crying
As the door swung off the hinges
You were thinking you were dying you