Black Star

Black Star
I get home from work and you’re 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 it on the falling sky
Blame it on the satellite that beams me home

The troubled 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 don’t know anymore

Blame it on the black star
Blame it on the falling sky
Blame it on the satellite that beams me home

I get on the train and I just stand about now that I don’t think of you
I keep falling over I keep passing out when I see a face like you
What am I coming to?
I’m gonna melt down

Blame it on the black star
Blame it on the falling sky
Blame it on the satellite that beams me home
This is killing me
This is killing me

Radiohead, The Bends.

Because this song is part of my youth forever and because these words make sense now while I wonder about your feelings and everything you must be going through, at the same time wishing I was brave enough to tell you that I do more than care, I’m almost certain I love you and I want you and it would be lovely to be by your side more often. Or maybe you could be brave and tell me. But we just never do, do we?