The chords and dischords ring out in the darkness
The street echoes with Bartok and Anonymous
The phone rings, and again
But she is busy with macrame
And he with culture

And they glare and sigh
And time passes by
And the friend who rang will try another day

The kisses and criticisms cross like swords
The street echoes to harsh words and apologies
The phone rings, and again
And she is busy with mascara
And he with Beaujolais

And they curse and cry
And time passes by
And the friend who rang will try another day

But the scars beneath the surface never heal as they once did
And the wall is built anew
And true feelings are not hid
A bid for attention at a mention of the past
Stirs up the present
And the future lies before them
Strewn with broken glass and thorns
And a difference of opinion
Leads to different addresses
And a multitude of blessings

And why didn’t they do it sooner
There was nothing there to bind them
Just convention there to blind them
And acquaintances can’t find them in the phone book anymore

The chords and dischords ring out in the darkness
The street echoes with Bartok and Anonymous
The phone rings, and again
But she is busy with a Mandrax
And he’s not sure if she lives there anyway
And he’s not sure if she lives there anyway