It's a cold call to enemy soil Past the tight frame Behind which, in disgust, you recoil When you said to leave a message at the tone I know you were hoping for more Than a click and a dial tone But I don't know what to say I guess it's all the same Reason I pick my scabs I know you don't want to hear about that Especially in august When you're taking a break From an open season Of listening to people like me Whine and complain Well, I guess I just wanted a feeling from this call To feel like I did when I touched her skin The few times it didn't crawl The same reason I write checks from long dead accounts I'm sending one to the phone company now To cover the cost of these long distance bouts With the answer machine In your empty house

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