I opened the fire door   to four lips   none of which were mine   kissing   tightened my belt around my hips   where your hands were missing   and stepped out into the cold   collar high   under the slate grey sky   the air was smoking and the streets were dry   and I wasn't joking when I said   Good Bye   magazine quality men talking on the corner   French, no less much less of them then us   so why do I feel like something's been rearranged?   you know, taken out of context I must seem so strange   killed a cockroach so big   it left a puddle of pus on the wall   when you and I are lying in bed   you don't seem so tall   I'm singing now because my tear ducts are too tired   and my mind is disconnected but my heart is wired   I make such a good statistic   someone should study me now   somebody's got to be interested in how I feel   just 'cause I'm here   and I'm real   oh, how I miss   substituting the conclusion to confrontation with a kiss   and oh, how I miss   walking up to the edge and jumping in   like I could feel the future on your skin   I opened the fire door   to four lips   none of which were mine   kissing      I opened the fire door x 9