text: I get home from work
  And youre 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 dont 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 dont think of you
  I keep falling over, I keep passing out
  When I see a face like you
  What am I coming to?
  Im gonna melt down
  Blame it on the black star
  Blame it on the falling sky
  Blame it on the satellite
  That beams me home
  Ah, this is killing me
  Ah, this is killing me