Pulp — Goodnight

Now it’s coming to the end of the evening

The time when the ceiling sways and objects jerk out of place

Your eyelids heavy, you make your way down the yellow streets past rows and rows of houses

Curtains drawn tight against the cold night air

To a flight of stairs which lead to a room where a bed is waiting for you to lie down

Perhaps alone, perhaps not and go to sleep again

They wait alone in unused rooms

They sit and they remember

Oh, please remember

So you lie on your back in the dark and listen to the blood rushing in your ears

And the soft tick, tick, tick of your watch against the mattress springs

Patterns merge behind your eyes

Purple and green, glwoing gently and all is soft with furry darkness

You yawn once turn on your side and fall to sleep again

They wait alone, they bathed your eyes when nights were cold

Oh, please remember

There’s something you’ve forgotten

When you awoke later that night the bedroom was cold and you were alone

Alone and afraid of the dark

Watching

Watching

As you lie on your back naked beneath the cold sheets

Not dead, just sleeping

And you will never wake again, ha-ha-ha