Found On: Fishcotheque .. The Jazz Butcher's Free Lunch

Chorus:

Just when I feel like I should be dead and gone
You make me want to carry on

"The cold light of day" and "the heat of the night"
Make me wonder if language has turned out quite right
The scene is quite normal: a Saturday morning,
The breakfast in ruins, the newspaper torn
And I'm starting to wish that I'd never been born
When a letter comes in with your handwriting on

And

Chorus

A room full of postcards a room with a view
I stare at the street just for something to do
There's a man on the sidewalk with egg in his hair
He's got hands like Des Nilsen, I don't like his stare
( celebrated U.K. murderer )
Everytime I look out of my window he's there
But he's only the postman so what do I care?