Window mounted air conditioning unit,nHumming like a hive.nWe want to send postcards to the friends we used to have,nRub their noses in the ugly fact that we are still alive,nAnd we play, nLovers reggae, nOn accordian and banjo, nWhen the moon is high.nAnd we lie on the floor,nGet suspicious of the people nWho've just moved in next door.nnThe bad taste in our mouths,nThe twinkle in your eyenGood things never lastnBad things never die.nnWind chime from Tahiti that we found down at the auction,nTolls its minor chord.nAnd i can't think of one thing in this whole wide blessed world,nThat's more dangerous and frightening,nThan you when you get bored.nAnd we go though, nScads of money.nDon't know where it comes from,nDon't know where it goes.nAnd we stare, out the windownSee the poison flowers the neighbours grow,nSprouting up in nice neat rows.nnThe swelling in our limbs,nThe twinkle in your eye,nGood things never last,nBad things never die.n