After the red ants, the [bad word] peace and quiet.
Those little foot-prints
Fleshed out calm in my mind.
I lay like [bad word] 
Digits accusing the sunrise
Rain-drops abseil the window
And flinch through the hurt cries.

I feel this great [bad word] down on me.
And the ticle of my bliss,
Pulling at your sympathy

I feel this great [bad word] down on me,
When my nerve is on the high wire.
My bliss, pulling at your sympathy

After the hunt and the sweat [bad word] peace and quiet.
Your head on my heart
Anchored the storm in my eyes.
I lay like a carcass
Your lips never letting the blood dry
And so I pray for tomorrow
And wait listening out for a reply.

I feel this great [bad word] down on me.
And the ticle of my bliss,
Pulling at your sympathy

I feel this great [bad word] down on me,
When my nerve is on the high wire.
My bliss, pulling at your sympathy

I feel this great [bad word] down on me.
And the ticle of my bliss,
Pulling at your sympathy

I feel this great [bad word] down on me,
When my nerve is on the high wire.
My bliss, pulling at your sympathy