Tearing at the Fabric

Of the space-time continuum


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An ode to crap dads

I know, I know. I think I might actually be moving forward, nearly eight years after D-day. No posts for well over a month.

Jesus. Is that some kind of record? The eight year thing.

But anyhoo. I’m back. Just popped in to say hey, and spread my joy ;-).

Update: I have had a pretty intense month, I guess. Firstly, my blogging friend, and maybe yours, CrazyKat, came Down Under with her husband, BE. They’re still here actually, but cruising around our isles at the moment. I had the pleasure of their company for four whole days. How lucky am I? Just before they arrived, my sister-in-law (ex) was driving my nieces to school one morning, and tragically had a head-on with a truck, and sadly she did not survive, but was taken to the nearest large city and kept on life support for 36 hours, as she was an organ donor. My two little nieces are relatively unscathed, but their father, my brother (the one I don’t get on with) flew from the other side of the world, where he lives with his new wife, immediately. He has promised the girls’ grandparents that he will not take the girls out of the country. This means he has effectively ended his marriage, as his wife refuses to move here. (We’ll see. Her bottom line constantly shifts!) So, he is at my father’s house, on the job hunt at present.

The week after that sadness, another niece was getting married, in a neighbouring country. My eldest, S, and I flew over, and stayed at my lovely sister, E’s house. So did my Dad.

Now. About my Dad. He’s is a bit special. To say the least. He is depressing and depressed, revels in playing the pathetic old man lately (even though he is a perfectly healthy and capable 73 year old) and loves to speak without engaging his brain. Ugh. Mostly it was okay, but S and I escaped a few times without him, as sometimes I just wanna punch him!

I will illustrate with a couple of gems from the four days we had together – three of which we mostly escaped his special kind of … stupid.

We were at the wedding, and in Australia, gay marriage is still not legal. So, they went through the traditional vows, about the legal status of marriage as between a man and a woman, and then my niece and her new husband added that they couldn’t wait until marriage was a right for all. Love is love. So, at the reception, the table seating goes – sister, me, daughter, two friends of E’s, uncle (my mother’s brother), and his lovely wife, then Dad. My GAY Dad pipes up with, “I don’t agree with gay marriage anyway.” FML. I just stared at him, full in the eye, mine about rolling back in my damn head, and said, “well, don’t worry, no one anywhere in the world has made it compulsory, yet, Dad.” My aunt about pissed her pants, and said, “what about people who have been committed to each other for maybe 30 or 40 years, and their significant other is not allowed in a hospital room, to make health/funeral decisions/say goodbye, etc, and their parents, who may have not spoken to their son or daughter all those years can do that, and cut the most important person in that person’s life off? What about those cases, for a start?” Dad: “Oh, I hadn’t really thought about that.”

SHIIIIIIIIT!!! Special.

Then  another day, we are discussing whether the little girls who just lost their mother had gone back to school yet? It was two weeks since their Mum had died. Um, Dad: ” Oh, I has, but H, not yet, she has a large gash on her forehead which is quite deep and unsightly, and you know, she’s a girl.” SMH! S and I looked at each other, and I said, “um, what? WTF does that matter? The kid is 11 years old, and who cares if she’s girl, boy, trans, horned, or whatever-the-fuck-else?” He replied with, “oh you know, girls, they care what they look like.” I looked directly at him and said, “hmmm, so no one else does? And that is what being a girl means? Looks? Get in the real world, Dad. It only matters to the people who think that way, and those like you that perpetuate her value as being equated with her looks, FFS.” He looked mildly offended and I don’t think he got it. See, special!

Exhibit number three: Dad is discussing (inappropriately) the state of my brother’s marriage, when he casually mentions that my (newer) sister-in-law currently weighs over 100kgs. (She was a gorgeous, slightly curvaceous, but I would estimate no more than 60-65ish kg girl when I last saw her a couple of years ago.) I turned to him and said, “ah, what? How do you know that? And, more importantly, why are you mentioning it? That is not something that your son should be discussing with you, and it is certainly not something you should be sharing with me. Besides which, why are you sharing that? Why is it important to you both?” Fucking special. Especially since my sister’s younger daughter is anorexic, and has been dangerously ill for the past few years, was refused treatment from every centre in her state as she was “too thin” – it is a scary condition, really scary. (She is a slightly healthier weight, and I mean only slightly, at the moment, she has done a lot of work, knows she is very ill, but was still talking about how she needed to lose weight for the wedding, as she was a bridesmaid – you would lose her if she turned sideways. Seriously, and dangerously thin.) What. The. Actual. FUUUUUUUUUUCK?!

Just like the kind of crap that is normalised, like the lyrics to so many songs, I refuse to post the song itself, but how internalised are lyrics like these?  John Mayer’s Daughters:

I know a girl
She puts the colour inside of my world
But she’s just like a maze
Where all of the walls all continually change
And I’ve done all I can
To stand on her steps with my heart in my hands
Now I’m starting to see
Maybe it’s got nothing to do with me

Fathers, be good to your daughters
Daughters will love like you do
Girls become lovers who turn into mothers
So mothers, be good to your daughters too

Oh, you see that skin?
It’s the same she’s been standing in
Since the day she saw him walking away
Now she’s left
Cleaning up the mess he made

So fathers, be good to your daughters
Daughters will love like you do
Girls become lovers who turn into mothers
So mothers, be good to your daughters too

Boys, you can break
You find out how much they can take
Boys will be strong
And boys soldier on
But boys would be gone without the warmth from
A woman’s good, good heart

On behalf of every man
Looking out for every girl
You are the god and the weight of her world

So fathers, be good to your daughters
Daughters will love like you do
Girls become lovers who turn into mothers
So mothers, be good to your daughters too [3x]

There were also discussions about racism, my brothers had recently pulled Dad up about some language he was using. So, the whole visit with my Aussie family (who were not involved in these exchanges) – with my bigoted gay Dad, lol –  was full of these clangers, I mostly bit my tongue, for the sake of calm, but I was bloody glad to be heading home. My take home message was this. I had a fucking fantastic Mum. I never saw how fucked up and gendered my upbringing was. I mostly felt I was treated on an equal basis to my two younger brothers, and I didn’t even know that Dad was quite such a fucktard really!

Good job, Mum xxx

It still leaves me completely gobsmacked that these attitudes are so prevalent, but yeah, what do we see, hear, experience? Lily said it well a few years back with these observations:

The Fear

I want to be rich and I want lots of money
I don’t care about clever I don’t care about funny
I want loads of clothes and fuckloads of diamonds
I heard people die while they are trying to find themAnd I’ll take my clothes off and it will be shameless
‘Cause everyone knows that’s how you get famous.

[Pre-chorus:]
I’ll look at the sun and I’ll look in the mirror
I’m on the right track, yeah I’m on to a winner.

[Chorus:]
I don’t know what’s right and what’s real anymore
And I don’t know how I’m meant to feel anymore
And when do you think it will all become clear?
‘Cause I’m being taken over by the fear

Life’s about film stars and less about mothers
It’s all about fast cars and cussing each other
But it doesn’t matter cause I’m packing plastic
And that’s what makes my life so fucking fantastic

And I am a weapon of massive consumption
And it’s not my fault it’s how I’m programmed to function

[Pre-chorus]

[Chorus]

Forget about guns and forget ammunition
‘Cause I’m killing them all on my own little mission
Now I’m not a saint but I’m not a sinner
Now everything’s cool as long as I’m getting thinner

[Chorus]

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Moods

It’s been a very quiet weekend. The youngest flew to the city her brother is at university at yesterday. The uni has its Open Day tomorrow, and she and a friend went together to check it out. So, Mother’s Day weekend has been spent doing my final two interviews and transcribing them. I have a bloody sore typing wrist! So, I will try to keep it brief.

crying-depressed-depression-fake-favim-com-1832803

I guess, from what I have posted on this funny little piece of online real estate, I looked like I had a blissfully unaware, spoilt rotten life prior to the affair? Right? Well, not quite.

I had fairly brief periods over the years when my mood would be pretty low. I think it was probably mild depression that would hit from nowhere. It would be years apart, and usually I could shake it off within a month or two. It hit particularly badly when my eldest was about eight months old, and I ended up in tears in my GPs surgery, with his older practice nurse being SOOO amazing, and saying that she had suffered with post natal depression, and had some numbers of good counsellors. They prescribed meds for me. I never filled the prescription, and battled away until around the eighteen month mark, when it seemed to lift. I have no idea why? I had stopped breastfeeding her a couple of months earlier, and I mostly enjoyed that. I think just talking in the doctor’s office that day helped ease the burden a bit. I think it may have had something to do with the fact that I was a bit isolated, in a way. I was only 25 when I had her, and none of my friends were partnered up, let alone mothers yet. I think I felt I had failed a little at life, a two time university dropout, had to return early from her OE due to a unplanned for baby on the way. Bit of a lemon really. I knew I wasn’t, that those narratives were in my head, and that I loved and was loved. And I made a huge effort. If I had to be a mother, I was going to be the BEST damn mother I could be. I had a great role model in my own mother, but I hadn’t ever really thought too hard about parenthood. I assumed the urge, if it ever came – and to be honest, I hoped it wouldn’t – would hit somewhere in my 30s. My girl short circuited all of that. And I have no real regrets. Motherhood was the making of me in many ways. And don’t get me wrong, I adore my kids. Totally.

A couple more times in the next couple of decades, I recall some lowish moments. The worst was when I started to have suicidal ideations, or basically, I went and sorted out how to make the practicalities of a car gassing work. That was absolutely (by far and away) the worst I ever got, and I never went through with any attempts. It seems almost surreal to tell the story now. Like only crazy and terribly messed up people get that low, right? (Answer: of course not!)

I recall a friend having a real struggle in dealing with her teenage step-daughter being diagnosed with depression. Like it was pretty stigmatic (to her.) I remember asking a few questions, like is she getting help, is the ‘help’ actually helping, etc. Then I made a remark that may seem flippant here. I said, “well, you do remember that it is a teenager’s job to be depressed, right?” I didn’t mean it to sound as harsh and as dismissive as it no doubt did. The friend looked at me like I had taken a dump on her white carpet! “What the hell are you talking about?” I answered, “well, we’ve all listened to too much sad music and taken it to heart, felt completely heart broken and misunderstood as teenagers, haven’t we?” She was sure I had dropped from another planet. “NO!!! I never felt like that.” Boy, did I feel like a weirdo, and I realised, for the first time, that maybe not everyone DID feel like that a lot in their teens? I mean, I had a great childhood, there was plenty to do, see, eat, play, etc. I was pretty privileged, but never over-indulged. It floored me. Did I do my teenage years all wrong? I thought her step-daughter (who is my god-daughter, I was good friends with her mother before their divorce) was just having a tough, but pretty ‘normal’ time of those late teen years. She was, but did require some medical help for a while, maybe she still does, she’s 25 now, and it matters not, as long as she is okay. But maybe it isn’t always like that? A revelation. And not a pretty one. I was somehow a ‘deficient’ model off the assembly line. Damn! I LOVED all that emotional music. As an 80s child, I LOVED listening to Morrissey speak my truths. Michael Stipe, Robert Smith, yes, Prince, Bowie, Siouxsie Sioux, Billy Bragg, so, so many more, all of my musical loves, they KNEW how it felt to be me, to not fit the round hole as this square peg. And she was telling me I was wrong.

I figure that I was given an incredible capacity to feel. Mostly is has been an amazing gift. I loved, I laughed, I empathised, I supported, and I mourned with those I care about. But, the flipside of that special coin, is that you feel pain (and anger!) more intensely than most. You are usually a loyal and fierce person. You will FIGHT anyone who hurts ANYONE you care about. It might not be physical, but you will form whatever barriers you can. I would bloody well near die for you if I love you! Even if you were nice to me once, lol! I spent a great deal of my younger life learning to rein the anger, and indignation at injustice in – to a societally acceptable level. I met a very calm and loving man, and he helped me in this endeavour. Interestingly, he sort of understood it, even though he rarely feels the heights and depths that I always have. He knows it dwells in him, having watched his father, who is not a bad man in any way, shape or form, instead is a pretty sweet and caring man, but who had an explosive temper – never directed at animals or humans. I have been checked twice to see if I fit a bipolar profile. Apparently not, but I believe I may sail pretty close to that ley line at times. And I knew it. I recognised my passions were possibly a bit more intense than many.

So, a friend posted about a song that moved her as it always reminded her of a family member who lived with the torment of addiction, and who, sadly, eventually took his own life. It set off some triggers, but not in that heart-stopping, awful way of the immediate period of post D-day. More just led me down this rabbit hole. I have blogged earlier about my affinity with music, and the themes and lyrics that give me goosebumps, and plumb the depths of my soul. I know I am not alone in that. And it reminded me that I didn’t have a picture perfect life before the affair (ha! I already knew that, but…) that I had had a moment where I really did contemplate ending my life, because I was not coping with the pain of … life. I know I am susceptible to depression, but have never really had a severe episode of prolonged, deep depression, more my – self-diagnosed, I admit – dysthymia, where I just can’t feel content. And this is what has set in after the affair, and after the first years of being pretty sure we would manage to climb out of the shitty place he put us in. Dysthymia, it’s a shit of a place to live, and I can’t seem to raise a mortgage to get out of it!

All that said, it has been a productive weekend, but I need to exercise. I have the last two interviews completed for my dissertation paper done this weekend, but yet to transcribe, and I was hoping I would have made a start on the coding and writing by now. The joys of what seems like permanent studenthood!

So, (not a real) dog, WALKIES!!!

 

 


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Sometimes I sit and think, sometimes I just sit – yeah right!

I have posted a few music vids. This time I have stayed in this century. No real obvious infidelity links in this one except my own links with my own life, “if you can’t see me, I can’t see you….”

But other than that, this does speak to me. To my social conscience. To my politics. To my frustration with modern life.

Not to mention the mention of culling cars instead of sharks. Who knew that friends would be more dangerous to me than strangers? We are taught about stranger danger from a young age, but the people that have hurt me most in my life have been supposedly innocuous – beneficial even, aren’t we seen as successful social beings if we have these in our lives – friends, acquaintances and lovers. My rapist. My cheater. My betraying friend. Sharks indeed, the cars we use every day are far more dangerous.

Just like people we know and are in contact with constantly.

I wish I could just sit. That is my dream. To just sit. No thinking.

Jen insists that we buy organic vegetables

And I must admit that I was a little skeptical at first

A little pesticide can’t hurt

Never having too much money,

I get the cheap stuff at the supermarket

But they’re all pumped up with the shit

A friend told me that they stick nicotine in the apples

If you can’t see me,I can’t see you

If you can’t see me, I can’t see you

Heading down the Highway Hume

Somewhere at the end of June

Taxidermied kangaroos are lifted on the shoulders

A possum Jackson Polluck is painted on the tar

Sometimes I think a single sneeze could be the end of us

My hay-fever is turning up, just swerved into a passing truck

Big business overtaking

Without indicating

He passes on the right, been driving through the night

To bring us the best price

If you can’t see me, I can’t see you

If you can’t see me, I can’t see you

More people die on the road than they do in the ocean

Maybe we should mull over culling cars instead of sharks

Or just lock them up in parks where we can go and view them

There’s a bypass over Holbrook now

Paid for with burgers no doubt I’ve lost count of all the cows

There’ll be no salad sandwiches

The law of averages says we’ll stop in the next town

Where petrol price is down… What do I know anyhow?

If you can’t see me, I can’t see you

If you can’t see me, I can’t see you

If you can’t see me, I can’t see you

If you can’t see me, I can’t see you


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Returning

Returned from a whirlwind trip up north. Took my youngest daughter to a school ball as a friend’s “date.” All girls’ state school, and it was a bit of an eye opener for her, she was amazed at how “young” the girls she was with were, 16 and 17 year olds all starry eyed about boys. One thing the state co-ed school she goes to inadvertently teaches kids is how to interact with the opposite sex. She is a fairly mature 16 year old. She has seen some real-life heartbreak (ahem, that would be her totally devastated parents) and had to break up with her first love due to religious differences (we are atheists, he is Muslim) and they were hiding their “relationship” from his parents, until they couldn’t any longer. I tried to gently nudge her about relationships that you have to keep secret. Her ex-BF is a lovely guy, and they weren’t doing anything sexual – and yeah, I believe her – as she respected his religion as an important part of who he is. She was very sad, but quite philosophical, she knew it could never work, and she is off overseas for five months soon.

Anyway, back to the trip. It was a bit rushed, we drove almost 1000kms in one weekend. But we took our exchange student with us to show her around a bit up north. It was a productive trip – we bought some gifts for her (N) to take home, and some for D to take with her to her host family. The weather was mixed, but generally nice, as it usually is up north, winter or not.

With so much driving, we listened to a lot of music. And on the way home, this old one of The Killers came on. This and Pulp’s Underwear just rip me to shreds.

Still.

I have this awful imagination. I see these things happening. I talked to Roger about it this morning. This version, with Jarvis’ commentary beforehand at Reading in ’94, totally describes how I feel about it all. I can’t turn it off. These images, of them undressing, breathing heavily, full of passion and desire. Dripping with hormones and the thrill of the forbidden, the heightened emotions of distance and ……..My heart just can’t cope. And no matter what I do, this is what loops for me. I know that their sex was mostly pretty average, but you know, a fifteen month long distance affair, when they often didn’t see each other for months – O. M. G. It had to be sexy, and passionate sometimes. He nodded, and said, “sadly, yes, a little. Not on this scale, but yeah, there were tender moments, and gentle fumblings as we undressed, I’m so damn sorry that you still can’t turn these awful movies off.” The pain. It is searing. And the most frustrating thing is that even without him, it doesn’t abate. I have tried all kinds of mind contortions. I try to cut and paste me back into those movies, hell, we were erotic, so why not replace those pictures with the better ones, of US. I have tried cutting HIM out of them, and replacing him with someone else, even a faceless someone else. But none of the things I have tried (including hypnotherapy to just shut the damn things completely off) have stuck, and I loop and loop through this shit.

I love music, I can’t not listen to it, and the reason is that it speaks to me. I know exactly what people are singing about, you know, your own interpretation of someone else’s lyrics, maybe not even close to what they’re actually singing about. But every now and again, yep, a real dagger in the heart.

So, a long, busy weekend, and the pain of it all never abates.

I know it never will.

And throughout it all, I still fucking love him. Like an abused wife. I fucking hate it.

The Killers – Mr. Brightside

Coming out of my cage
And I’ve been doing just fine
Gotta gotta be down
Because I want it all
It started out with a kiss
How did it end up like this
It was only a kiss, it was only a kiss
Now I’m falling asleep
And she’s calling a cab
While he’s having a smoke
And she’s taking a drag
Now they’re going to bed
And my stomach is sick
And it’s all in my head
But she’s touching his chest
Now, he takes off her dress
Now, letting me goI just can’t look its killing me
And taking control
Jealousy, turning saints into the sea
Swimming through sick lullabies
Choking on your alibis
But it’s just the price I pay
Destiny is calling me
Open up my eager eyes
Cause I’m Mr BrightsideI’m coming out of my cage
And I’ve been doing just fine
Gotta gotta be down
Because I want it all
It started out with a kiss
How did it end up like this
It was only a kiss, it was only a kiss
Now I’m falling asleep
And she’s calling a cab
While he’s having a smoke
And she’s taking a drag
Now they’re going to bed
And my stomach is sick
And it’s all in my head
But she’s touching his chest
Now, he takes off her dress
Now, letting me go

‘Cause I just can’t look its killing me
And taking control
Jealousy, turning saints into the sea
Swimming through sick lullabies
Choking on your alibi
But it’s just the price I pay
Destiny is calling me
Open up my eager eyes
‘Cause I’m Mr Brightside
I never
I never
I never
I never

 

Pulp – Underwear Lyrics

Why don’t you shut the door,
And close the curtains,
’cause you’re not going anywhere.
He’s coming up the stairs,
And in a moment he’ll want to see your underwear.You couldn’t stop it now.
There’s no way to get out.
He’s standing far too near.
How the hell did you get here.
Semi-naked in somebody else’s room.
I’d give my whole life to see it.
Just you,
Stood there,
Only in your underwear.If fashion is your trade,
Then when you’re naked,
I guess you must be unemployed yeah.
’cause once it’s underway,
There’s no escaping,
The fact that you’re a girl and he’s a boy.

You couldn’t stop it now.
There’s no way to get out.
He’s standing far too near.
How the hell did you get here.
Semi-naked in somebody else’s room.
I’d give my whole life to see it.
Just you,
Stood there,
Only in your underwear.

If you close your eyes and just remember,
That this is what you wanted last night.
So why is it so hard for you to touch him.
For you to go and give yourself to him?

I couldn’t stop it now.
There’s no way to get out.
He’s standing far too near.
How the hell did you get here,
Semi-naked in somebody else’s room.
I’d give my whole life to see it.
Just you,
Stood there,
Only in your underwear.

Do, do do do do. Do, do. Do, do. Do, do, do, do, do.
Do, do.
Do, do.
Oh yeah,
I want to see you.
Want to see you only in your underwear


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Cosy

It is cold here. Temperatures in the negatives first thing in the morning and snow on the small mountain I skirt around to go to uni one way around, and work the other side of. I have never seen snow this low. Never on this little mountain. Snow is a rarity where I live, a fresh dusting one night every few years on the mountain range I live near, and that causes much excitement. Usually melted by the afternoon.

I was doing my usual mind meandering on my way home from work tonight. Sometimes I wish my mind was a blank canvas, and I didn’t constantly THINK. But I know this is me, always has been, always will be. I think. Thinking is like breathing. You die if you don’t.

Tonight’s gem I dragged up was about music festivals. I think it was triggered by a song on the radio and what the males in the family are up to this evening. Goes something like this. My eldest daughter and I went to quite a few music festivals together in her early teens. We have similar taste in music, she of course introduced me to more, and I educated her ;-). One of the first ones we went to together was at the end of his affair. And it was in skankola’s city. TOIL suggested we stay with skankola while we were up there. Yep. You did read that right. He really did. He suggested that his daughter, and his partner, supposedly the love-of-his-life (he still tells me that) stay with the woman he had been secretly fucking for a year. Isn’t that cosy? I wonder why I said no?!! I just thought it bizarre, and I didn’t even have a clue they WERE fucking.

I mean really, who was this guy even???

He has taken our nearly 18 year old son and his mate up to the same city tonight to watch one of our local football teams play a visiting West Ham United side. Should be a cold but fun night for them.

I wonder if he ever thinks of staying with her, or remembers that he suggested we do? I doubt it. He has pretty much, in many ways, forgotten about her. He has forgotten that he fucked up our whole lives for a selfish, trashy low life, piece of shit, some regular bad sex and a lot of being told how fun and great he was. Funny when he was the least fun or great he has ever been. If I wasn’t so permanently scarred by what he chose for me, he would never give it all another thought. He even told me the other day that if he didn’t know better, he would think it was all a weird, fucked up dream, “did I really do that shit? No way.” The time between then and now has made it all fuzzy. For him.

Just my little piece of sunshine for today. Off to watch the youngest play hockey and drop off a little lamb to my god-daughter, yes, the one whose mother I no longer really talk to, my former best friend. But my god-daughter Instagram and Snapchatted (basically cyber begging me 🙂 ) asking me if I had one last weekend, and I would never deny her. Fun times!

Snap Out Of It! Arctic Monkeys

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From Later with Jools Holland. You could take this so many ways 🙂 Took six teens to their Auckland gig a few weeks back, who had an absolute ball (legendary mother who takes many neighbourhood kids to the Big Smoke for international acts – when really just a rock chick at heart!) I remember going several years ago on my birthday to their first NZ gig – pretty sure it was during his affair. Back when I used to have genuine, unadulterated (unadulteried) fun.

“Snap Out Of It”

What’s been happening in your world?
What have you been up to?
I heard that you fell in love
Or near enough
I gotta tell you the truth…

I wanna grab both your shoulders and shake baby
Snap out of it (Snap out of it)
I get the feeling I left it too late, but baby
Snap out of it (Snap out of it)
If that watch don’t continue to swing or the fat lady fancies having a sing
I’ll be here waiting ever so patiently for you to
Snap out of it

Forever isn’t for everyone
Is forever for you?
It sounds like settling down or giving up
But it don’t sound much like you girl

I wanna grab both your shoulders and shake baby
Snap out of it (Snap out of it)
I get the feeling I left it too late, but baby
Snap out of it (Snap out of it)
If that watch don’t continue to swing or the fat lady fancies having a sing
I’ll be here waiting ever so patiently for you to
Snap out of it

Under a spell you’re hypnotized
Darling how could you be so blind?
(Snap out of it)
Under a spell you’re hypnotized
Darling how could you be so blind?

I wanna grab both your shoulders and shake baby
Snap out of it (Snap out of it)
I get the feeling I left it too late, but baby
Snap out of it (Snap out of it)
If that watch don’t continue to swing or the fat lady fancies having a sing
I’ll be here waiting ever so patiently for you to
Snap out of it