She dreams china white behind her eyes of china blue   Her future wrapped in velvet and her memories wrapped in warm cotton wool      And the coffee grounds   Are burying the hours that she killed   In another murder of a day      Her patience starts to crumble   Like a rock that turns to sand   And time breaks down to seconds   When you're waiting on a man      She's checking out the doorway while she's checking out the guy   Whose drunk imagination is climbing up the ladder of her silk clad thigh      And the cigarettes   Are burning up the hours that she killed   In another murder of a day      Her patience starts to crumble   Like a rock that turns to sand   And time breaks down to seconds   When you're waiting on a man      It seems so long since yesterday   The time goes by so slow   When you're waiting on a man, waiting on a man to show      She shivers in a cold sweat that she's trying to ignore   As she wraps her shaking fingers round the loose change by the phone   She needs him more than she'll admit and more than others need to know,   She hopes the knots that tie her stomach are only butterflies   The time goes by so slow   When you're waiting on a man, waiting on a man to show.      She prays that no one pays attention   As she punches out the call   As she fumbles with the number   That the panic still doesn't show   She prays the lights stay green all night   She prays the traffic doesn't slow   And the knots that tie her stomach are only butterflies      Only butterflies, fly by every day   While your waiting on a man, waiting on a man to show      There he stands behind the door   She reaches for her coat to go   And she wanders away in a dream   She wanders away to a dream      As she threads her way home through the neon washed alleyways   She flirts with the shadows and skirts round the victims   Of a night that'll sleep through the day   That casts out it's refugees and throws out it's debris      She turns the key in a lock to a fairy tale world   That she guards with her ghosts of faithful familiars   Who attend to her shrine in a patchwork cathedral   Observing the ritual with silent compassion and prayers      On the candlelit edges of a tightening circle   She arranges the photographs faded and yellowing   Memories left of her friends and her family   Respectfully turned to the wall      She turns up the sound on a second hand radio   And drowns out the noise of the world that she lives in   Her conscience her witness her life is her courtroom   And the man she left waiting   Is waiting to murder a day         (written by tony banks and fish, from the 1991 album 'still' by tony banks, virgin, tcv 2658)