Forty four cuts
before you let your knife slip away
Thirty eight for each day of our escape
And another six for your recapture

                           You’ve really got a thing for numbers,
                           And you can count on me, to be guilt struck
                           (Unlucky 37)


[Six. Six. Six.
Go ahead and tell me that you don’t remember,
‘I blocked out every childhood memory now,’
But your eyes are closed holding back tears and
Haunting times, Don’t lie to me,
                                     DaddY’s LitTle DiSastEr]



                                                    i can’t block this out



I watched you a week ago
Stood in the dark
Head torch on and shivering
Twisting the tap
On-and-off,
On-and-off,
On-and-off,
Sixteen times before you could stop.

                                You’ve really got a thing for numbers,
                                And you can count on me, to know too much
                                 (I would have put my soul on evens)



                                                        i can’t shake this off

Lying back in my familiar bed
I curl into a golden ringlet
Of your angel head
Not so far from your green wellingtoned feet
So young, so defenceless, so pure
Did you ever stand and wonder
Why they hit you?
Why they hate you?
Why they hurt you?
Did you struggle with that as I now do?
Before you gave in and took to hurting yourself
Before they could get to you.

                                                         i can’t stand this

Are you sleeping in your barn tonight
You told me it was alright,
Mostly you can see it coming
Now

                                                          i can’t stop this


Forty four cuts
Yet all I could say was
‘I miss waking up next to you’
And I could almost see the expression on your face
When you said
‘I’m not waking up at all these days’


                                      You’ve really got a thing for
                                     numbers,
                                     And you can count on me, to be hopeless
                                     (A hundred miles away)