Lyrics

It's a cold call to enemy soil Past the tight frame Behind which, in disgust, you recoil When you said to leave a message at the tone I know you were hoping for more than a click And a dial tone But I don't know what to say I guess it's all the same Reason I pick my scabs I know you don't want to hear about that Especially in August When you're taking a break From an open season Of listening to people like me Whine and complain Well, I guess I just wanted a feeling from this call To feel like I did when I touched her skin The few times it didn't crawl But I don't know what to say I guess it's all the same The same reason I write checks from long-dead accounts I'm sending one to the phone company now To cover the cost of these long-distance bouts With the answering machine In your empty Your empty house