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