When I see the foaming crèma on the top of coffee black
And smell earthy aromas that put me back on track
I feel it from the opening sip starting to make me sick
But the singing of the neurons always keeps me coming back

I’m shaking and I’m nervous and I need to eat some food
I’m nauseous and I’m jumpy and my co-ordination’s screwed
But it’s hurting in a happy way and it just feels so good
I’m singing in the rain, I’m dancing in the nude

Addiction, affliction, sometimes it’s even legal
Induction, corruption, some things are eternal

I’ve something now in common with Sherlock Holmes and Jimmy Page,
And Kurt Cobain although I hope it doesn’t reach that stage
You’ll say I’m just a dilettante and I’m not that close to the edge
So brew me up another cup and bring it to my cage

I can feel switches closing and rerouting in my mind
And the fuzzy feelings lifting and I am no longer blind
the maggots in my stomach insist the stuff be banned
Then the java fairy manifests and waves his magic wand

It keeps me from depression and self pity and despair
It’s a celebrated ritual that thickly perfumes the air
It’s a palpitating nightmare, an exhilarating dare
It’s a lover with a flogger; it’s a pyrrhic sort of cure

This should be fairly self explanatory, at least to anyone with an espresso habit. Coffee is a very addictive drug, and I thought it was fun to overstate the case a little. Addiction is addiction, whatever it is to. I thought Helen’s fiddle part was quite appropriately Viennese coffee house in style – a touch 2nd Viennese school (Shönberg) in the verse and 1st Viennese school (Haydn) in the chorus. TD