I pictured our apartment, in the middle of Brooklyn, and I pictured the bedroom and how the floor's still a mess. I pictured your office in mid-town Manhattan. I pictured you walking in. I bet you're late again but your make-up's straight and you're smiling. It's just like it's always been. I had lunch with your sister and she told me it's over, that you're calling your lawyers, that you're not coming back. She says that she's sorry. Your whole family likes me. She don't know what you're thinking but she knows that it's bad. So, I'll walk back home, turn the shower on. I'll let the washing machine turn the water cold. Chorus: