in the winter in a seaside boarding house
the killer swigs and wheels
round his room telling how he made that
weeping spinster kneel
yellow light seeps through a fly-glown lampshade
fading with the dawn
he yells and laughs, "they all wanted it -- it was easy so
how could it be wrong?"
five am and the seas are boiling
five am and the windows crack
five am and my hands are on you
big madness
big madness
when i phone you just to hear your voice, oh please
don't judge me so
it's just that i don't think i'll rise again till i've seen
how low i can go
next springtime when i'm gone for good and you struggle
to find the words
cruel enough through all these dying countenance
my stupid laughter will be heard
five am and the seas are boiling
five am and the windows crack
five am and my hands are on you
big madness
big madness
big madness
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