So you called up and said you'd be home when you got home, And put some ice on that bruise why don't you? And oh yeah there's a box in the back room, just leave it alone, I'll get to it tomorrow. I put the laundry in the wash, added a little something to my Orange juice and put a bag of frozen peas on my cheek; Sat down to watch a bit of TV so I guess I can blame it on Lack of pay per view. I put the box up on the arm of the couch and pried open the lock With a knife; Damned if a lot of romantic promises didn't fly out along With a prick of reality; The hook of believable lies, and the bite of honesty. The flutter of silence. The smell of us lying in bed together swarming with the Stench of some other woman's sweat. The stab of regret. So I got up and found the car keys and my chequebook; Packed a suitcase and grabbed a Dr. Pepper for the road. But then I heard knocking in that box. When I opened the lid it was hope that stung me through. Glad you're home honey, 'cause I've got an itch.