We slept in this morning and she had to get ready in a hurry   No time for her usual attention to detail   And she ran out the door   Slamming it behind her   Leaving her keys swinging and jangling      I stayed in bed until I heard the downstairs door shut   Then peeked through the blinds   And as soon as she was out of sight   I went for the keys      She never tried to make a secret of the box or   The fact it was locked or even where she kept it   But as I said at the time   "If you've nothing to hide, why hide it?"      It's one of those wee red cashbox things   And she keeps it in a drawer by the bed   Under some pictures and books   Every key she has is on the same keyring   It took me a while to find the right one      I don't know   I suppose I've had my doubts for a while there's been   Hushed phone calls virtually every night   Her friends stop talking when I come in the room   They look at each other, and I don't know   It's just a feelin'      Anyway   I eventually found the right key and   It fitted perfectly in   Put the box on top of the bed and opened it up      There were these pictures of friends and ex's   Letters, postcards, doodles, nothing bad   And then I found some sort of sex diary   And I went to the latest entry   It explicitly detailed a recent adventure up the park   With a boy she said she had forgotten about      And it got worse as it went on   The dates never made sense   There were people I had never even heard of   Eventually I had to stop reading it   Because I started to feel sick   So I put everything back the way I found it   Shut the drawer and phoned you      See, I don't know what to do   I keep having   Fantasies about leaving her Dictaphone under the pillow   Or following her when she goes to work   I've been lying about where I'm going   Just in case I can bump into her