Creeping like a prowler, steady as the sea
Funny how the garden goes to weed
Standing there beside you, couldn't see it with your eyes
Or hear a voice that's sinister and shy
Take the bottle off the shelf, my sweet Elizabeth
And trap the life that's left inside like Edison's last breath
The big hand points at seven, the small hand's on the ten
Tomorrow's here but may not come again
It's cooler than a killers heart as gentle as a sigh
Promises to never leave your side