The Room Where Love Comes to Die

Standing under the ceiling fan

Fantasising love

A middle-aged man

Hears a knock on the door

And adores her face

For facing love with such a glance

She sits on the kitchen chair

Cherishing a love

That was always there

There for her to pour

On his thinning hair

Spills on the carpet

Fair wear and tear

They stumble on the single bed

Betting on a love that was bound to fail

But failing not to wrap his arm around her leg

Letting them be one again

Curled up on the bathroom floor

Flooded by remorse

That he can't ignore

Nor that he can bear

Love could barely stand

And stopped the bleeding with a helping hand

Standing in the window frame

The silhouette of their love

And a fireman

Reaching out for something that can't be saved

The pavement makes a brand new friend

Walk into an empty room

Where love has come to die

The coroner wears white

The lovers wear black

And light a candle by ten

That gets blown out by the ceiling fan