The postman

I watch the sun come up while you're sleeping it off
when you go out for your news and curse your smoker's cough
i bring you bills to pay
and letters from the state
then you go inside and i walk away
i'm the postman
i'm the postman
And i walk you street for hours like some kind of jerk
with my grey clip tie and my pressed blue shirt
and when you leave for work
i think you're turning to flirt
but you're turning away and it always hurts
i'm the postman
i'm the postman
I know why you stare east, it's where your man's run off
and i know why your trash bin is brimming with his art
'cause when he was abroad
i read his last postcard
he met some brit named cass and it broke your heart
i'm the postman
i'm the postman