I woke twice last night, walked to the window
Looked down at the gravestones guarding St Patricks in the snow
And I thought if that's where it all ends
I should get home again with you
When fondness makes the heart grow absent
I gotta find an orbit a little closer to the ground
When fondness in my heart is absent
I'm in awe of the sabotage within
In the morning the cliffs of fear still rising from my sleep
A note from the demons is lying accusing at my feet
The parks are empty and the tea's gone cold
I could slip so easily from the earth's hold
The life has been lived and the story sold
Black ice is creeping over the pavement
An overcoat slips to the ground like the Angel of Death
Is playing on Prince Street
They're falling and not making a sound
To this evening and what a pleasure
Here in Balthazar's red leather
A little private toast and a vow to die
A natural death in my own good time