The cold tonight seems more anxious to talk

Than he has seemed in nights before

Skinless face and yellow heart, he

Hesitates and I wait

All my stories are about the same things

I find so many beds for them

I find this package of tiny lamps

And it makes a firey ring

Right now is the reason I carry this jewel

Everywhere round my neck

I keep it close but still outside

This is my explanation

All my stories are about the same things
I find so many beds for them

I find this package of tiny lamps

And it makes a firey ring

A box of love and s** and reflection

Its got my face and hands

The lonely is yellow and old

Watch the cold around my bed

All my stories are about the same things

I find so many beds for them

I find this package of tiny lamps

And it makes a firey ring