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 its 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
This is killing me
This is killing me

Don't get any big ideas
They're not gonna happen

You paint yourself white
And fill up with noise
But there'll be something missing

Now that you found it
It's gone

Now that you feel it
You don't
You've gone off the rails

So don't get any big ideas
They're not gonna happen

You'll go to Hell
For what your dirty mind
Is thinking

It's time to rewatch Harry Potter.🪄🍂

9¾🪄