Patchwork land is leading us to ruinsnweekday rates at many roadside roomsna sombre mood's got me electric bluento match the colour of the films nthat roll inside my television headnna geolgist I'm afraid I'm notnstuck between a hard place and a rocknsomething tells me I'm about to losenall sense and slip off the fencennyou've got, you've got, you've got, you've gotnthe run of the roomnonly words out of your mouth should be nI can take this onn(x2)nnI saw an argument and came insidena pointless spectacle that kept me occupied from the sidelinesntonight you'll leave tomorrow you'll be backnarmed to the teeth with apologiesnyou know you'll cut us both some slacknna geolgist I'm afraid I'm notnstuck between a hard place and a rocknsomething tells me I'm about to lose nall sense and slip off the fencennyou've got, you've got, you've got, you've gotnthe run of the roomnonly words out of your mouth should be nI can take this onn(x2)nnof course there's nothing lostnit's kept in pens and marginsnand stuck inside the back of yesterdaynlike who has shared your hoursnand who has shared your sheetsnand I don't see a reason why we all must go to sleepnnonly words out of your mouth should be nI can take this onnnyou've got, you've got, you've got, you've gotnthe run of the roomnonly words out of your mouth should be nI can take this onn(x2)nnI can take this onn(x4)