Cold Hands - Ezra Furman

I don’t want your money

I don’t want your car

I don’t want you to love me

No need to take it so far

I just wanna be held in your cold hands

And I wanna be held in your cold hands

I see nothing finer

I see nothing to gain

No particular pleasure

To measure up to the pain

I just want to be held in your cold hands

And I want to be held in your cold hands

Now I’m a dog in the moonlight

And I’m a punk in the grass

I’m at your bedroom window tonight

Scratching up on the glass

I wanna be held in your cold hands

I just want to be held in your cold hands