Night descended like a blanket, on the house
Where I miss you like a limb
I close the curtains, shun the working and
I put your record on
I put your record on
I, the lonely tax collector, never had
Such a feeling before you came
You descended, I amended
And I need it like a hole in the head
I need it like a hole in the head
You took me to the lion’s den
And waited for the beast to begin