Cathy Three

Why beat at the stalls, sit down in the rain, hover at infirmary's door, you are never at home, it’s just the same, stuff that makes you roam, what am I saying this for, there’s nothing to gain, while you run with whores, can't you atone, dance away my pain, recognise love’s not a loan, you know the score, your face a savage shade, I’m praying you roar, don't spit on the floor, or cry out my name, you’re not needed anymore, you always touch the bone, I never want to say, this time it’s too raw, to face myself again.