Besedila: The Zolas. Body Ash.

My balls are coals in the bottom of our bed
That sags with the ash of our passion spent
I kicked the coals to see if they're still lit
Oh, how much more can I take of this?
I don't know how much more I can take of this

You get undressed and I watch the show
You lie beside me but I stay cool
Then the next morning again we go
You dress for work and I watch that, too

I know this tunnel will end with light
But I can't see it, I can't see it
Must be a reason to stay polite
But I can't see it, I can't see it
I keep the fire alive in the night

I'm sick of sleeping in body ash
Our bed is heaping with body ash

We go for coffee and comfy chairs.
Your pen is to your lips but I don't stare
You lean over the table and between your hair
I can't pretend that I don't see what's there
Sure, sure, I'm a gentleman but this just ain't fair