Point Of Collapse

They’re checking the traps
For one of the chaps
In the backroom
Jimmy’s counting the stamps
Death in the living room
His favorite sport
A happy end
The point of collapse
There’s no space in my car
All my papers are false
You’re carrying a bag
A happy end
The point of collapse
In a free-climbing, two-timing, three-legged waltz
Can I leave a message?
But don’t use my voice
Don’t trust the man
Don’t give him the choice
Of removing his jacket
When he says he’s one of the boys
A happy end
The point of collapse