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Elsinore
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The Thermostat, the Telephone
You told me so openly, love,
that I'm all you've been thinking of
You wouldn't go back on that now
You followed along from the start
and all that you brought was your heart
A pumping machine in your chest
And, this is how it is. This is how it is.
I'm turning off the telephone,
the thermostat inside my home
I'll have the mail held back for weeks
and still this is no guarantee
I'm doing everything I can
I'm letting the temperature drop
and hoping this clicking might stop
The chemical balance is off
You traded your heart machine in
for one on the television
The hours and dollars you spend
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And, this is how it is. This is how it is.
This is how it is.
This is how it is. This is how it is.
This is how it is.
I'm turning off the telephone,
the thermostat inside my home
I'll have the mail held back for weeks
and burn the furniture for heat
I'm doing everything I can
You're hanging like the Hindenburg
inside my head
I'm putting out the fire,
but it's not looking good
I don't believe a word you say
Can California be that great?
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