Coming down again Won't you leave a trampoline At the foot, of the stairs? So I won't break my neck Falling out, of your favour White powder, speaks louder Than any words you're saying My flower, turned sour I found the petals at the end, of the bed It's just 'media-types' You know what they're like Well yeah, I do, but I never pictured you with them Coming in from the cold You're losing your hold On a part of me you'd stolen I've stopped, calling you when I'm drunk I've taken the time to hear the one Voice that's telling me You don't really care I'm getting there I'm almost at the point of no return But there's a light that burns White powder, speaks louder Than any words you're saying My flower, turned sour I found the petals at the end, of the bed It's just 'media-types' You know what they're like Well yeah, I do, but I never pictured you with them Coming in from the cold You're losing your hold On a part of me you'd stolen It's just 'media-types' You know what they're like Well yeah, I do, but I never pictured you with them Coming in from the cold You're losing your hold On a part of me you'd stolen But there's a light that burns