The Routine

This is what we do when we go to your place
Drink two beers in the kitchen and talk about work
Listen to AFAX and act like we don’t know what we’re missing
This is what we do when we go to my place
Eat leftovers in my room, listen to folk
Talk about last week and watch our old habits start resuming
Then we tend to lay down in the same old bed
And then we use it like a well-oiled machine
And I tend to ask the ceiling up above your head
How we came to make love into this routine

I don’t even talk to anyone like we do
Every lie indecently exposed for what it is
What is true, we’re smarter than we were a week ago
So how come we can’t keep our head
(unintelligible)
To wagging his tail at the foot of the bed
Following us out the door

Then we always lay down in the same old bed
And we use it like a well-oiled machine
And I tend to ask the ceiling up above your head
How we came to make love into this routine

This is what we do to try to keep ourselves
From going back to where we’ve been
We go from friends to lovers to friends to lovers
To friends to lovers and back again
Sometimes it takes a little hit to the head
Just to find out where we’re at
And it’s about time one of us said
Can you feel this
Could you feel
Can you feel this
Could you feel
Can you feel this
Could you feel that
We’re just trying not to lay down in the same old bed
The one we use just like a well-oiled machine
And I’m praying to the ceiling up above your head
Not to let our love turn into this routine