He was just a social drinker but social every night    He enjoyed a pint or two or three or four    She was just a silent thinker, silent every night    He'd enjoy the thought of killing her before       Well he was very rarely drunk but very rarely sober    And he didn't think the problem was his drink    But he only knew his problem when he knocked her over    And when the rotting flesh began to stink       Cry freedom for the woman in the wall    Cry freedom for she has no voice at all    I hear her cry all day, all night    I hear her voice from deep within the wall    Made a cross from knitting needles    Made a grave from hoover bags    Especially for the woman in the wall       She'd knitted him a jumper with dominoes on    So he wore it everyday in every week    Pretended to himself that she hadn't really gone    Pretended that he thought he heard her speak       Then at last it seemed that he was really winning    He felt that he had some sort of grip    But all of his new life was sent a-spinning    When the rotting wall began to drip