Van Der Graaf Generator

It might come in a letter,
Darkness falls in a telephone call;
I await the unexpected
With one ear to the party wall.
Is it the pricking of the conscience,
Is it the itching of hair shirt,
Is it the dictionary definition
Of a precipice to skirt?
It's the nutter alert.
Though this face is familiar
Something in it has bred contempt;
I never asked for your opinion
Or your back-handed compliments.
Oh, but here comes that special nonsense
All the words out in a spurt,