At half ten you come in and you sit yourself down and you look at the crossword the wrong way around I've been stuck on four across for an hour, and then you get it in seconds and you hand me the pen There's nothing on and nowhere we should be and nobody but you to answer me By one you've made toast and you've eaten it stood up and you drink out of mine and you don't wash the cup I read you fifteen down and you say it's a bird and it is, and it fits, and I don't say a word There's nothing on and nowhere we should be and nobody but you to answer me By four it's gone dark and there's one clue left to go and it's seven across and neither of us know You go to sleep on my arm and I leave it dead and I don't fill it in and I don't go to bed There's nothing on and nowhere we should be and nobody but you to answer me and it's still on the side, seven across, incomplete
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