And when she drowns. Within and in the fizzy gin begins to sigh. "Good god" or "My" I cry and die and lie beside. She is the apple in my eye. She talked to god. I couldn't cope. Or'd hope eloped. A dope she roped. This salty lie. And when she's dreaming I believe. And when she's reading I retreat. Can't believe her. Telling me she's dead again. Telling me she's dead against it. And deep my wound. Within for every second chance it was. thy-tore. From deep within despite the rain my words are worn. She loves to talk into the phone. No matter who. No matter when. No matter where. No better than the faulty line. And when she's dreaming I believe. And when she's reading I retreat. Can't believe her. Telling me she's dead again.