G
I lay awake at four, staring at the wall

F                           C                Bb
Counting all the cracks backwards in my best French

G
Reminds me of a book I skim-read in a surgery

F                      C                          Bb
All about palmistry, I wonder what's in store for me

     G                                  F
I pretend the plaster is the skin on my palms

                             C                     Bb
And the cracks are representative of what is going on

G                                                      F      C
I lose a breath... my love-line seems intertwined with death

                    G
I'm thinking of you too

G            F           C   Bb

G
I lay awake at three, staring at the ceiling

F                         C                  Bb
It's a kind of off-white, maybe it's a cream

G
There's oily residue seeping from the kitchen

F                               C                                   Bb
It's art-deco necromantic chic, all the dinner plates are kitsch with

G                                                              F
Irish Wolf Hounds, French baguettes wrapped loose around their necks

                    C                   G
I think I'm hungry, I'm thinking of you too
                    F      C  Bb
I'm thinking of you too
                     G  
I'm thinking of you too
                    F      C    Bb
I'm thinking of you too
                       G
I'm thinking of you too