I get home from work
And you're still standing
In your dressing gown
Well, what am I to do?

I know all the things
Around your head
And what they do to you

What are we coming to?
What are we gonna do?

Blame it on the black star
Blame it on the falling sky
Blame it on the satellite
That beams me home

The troubled words
Of a troubled mind
I try to understand
What is eating you

I try to stay awake
But it's 58 hours since
That I last slept with you

What are we coming to?
I just don't know anymore

Blame it on the black star
Blame it on the falling sky
Blame it on the satellite
That beams me home

I get on the train
And I just stand about
Now that I don't think of you

I keep falling over
I keep passing out
When I see a face like you

What am I coming to?
I'm gonna melt down

Blame it on the black star
Blame it on the falling sky
Blame it on the satellite
That beams me home

Too late, this is killing me
Too late, this is killing me