Eliza Lumley Black Star
I get home from work and youre still standing in your
dressing gown,
Well what am I to do?
I know all the things around your head and what they do
to you.
What are we coming to?
What are we gonna do?
Blame it on the black star,
Blame in on the falling sky,
Blame in on the satellite, that beams me home.
The trouble words of a troubled mind, I try to
understand what is eating you.
I try to stay awake, but its 58 hours since that I last
slept with you.
What are we coming to?
I just dont know anymore
Blame it on the black star,
Blame in on the falling sky,
Blame in on the satellite, that beams me home.
I get on the train and I just stand about now that I
dont think of you.
I keep falling over, I keep passing out, when I see a
face like you.
What am I coming to?
Im gonna melt down.
Blame it on the black star,
Blame in on the falling sky,
Blame in on the satellite, that beams me home.
