I am walking out in the rain
and I am listening to the low moan of the dial tone again,
and I am getting nowhere with you,
and I can't let it go,
and I can't get through.

And the old woman behind pink curtains
and closed door on the first floor.
She's listening through the airshaft
to see how long our swan song can last.
And both hands,
now use both hands.
Oh no don't close your eyes.
I am writing graffiti on your body.
I am drawing the story of how hard we tried,
how hard we tried.

I am watching your chest rise and fall
like the tides of my life and the rest of it all,
and your bones have been my bedframe,
and your flesh has been my pillow.
I've been waiting for sleep,
to offer up the deep with both hands.
Oh ah, both hands.

But in each other's shadow we grew less and less tall
and eventually our theories couldn't explain it all.
I'm recording our history now on the bedroom wall
and when we leave the landlord will come
and paint over it all.

I'm walking out in the rain
and I am listening to the low moan of the dial tone again,
and I am getting nowhere with you,
and I can't let it go,
and I can't get through.
Both hands, please use both hands.
Oh no, don't close your eyes.
I am writing graffiti on your body.
I am drawing the story of how hard we tried,
how hard we tried, how hard we tried.