Too Cold Here - Manic Street Preachers

Born in burial gowns, recessing slowly

You soon wish you couldn’t see at all

Tortured in the mind, six voices alone

Futile gestures, emotionless groans

Everyone asks what’s wrong, but what’s right?

And a cute lie makes everything uptight

To kill your dream before it’s considered

To live in silence, airless closet, no vision

It’s easier to make love to a stranger than to ask a friend to call

Suspicion knows nothing and is known for not much at all, much at all

Too cold here

Turn yourself bleeding inside

Always look for walls to lean beside

Too cold here

Turn yourself bleed it’s eyes

Always look for shade to cover your eyes

Self pity yourself is so shallow

I am so sick in mind and body, heart cold as stone

Whisky my coral, my piece of mind

Hello Mr. Samsung you can’t clean my soul

Wake up sighing, mass for the bleeding

Never share sadness mine no man prays painless

Coalescing mine are hidden rooms

Cannot give anything and never could

Prison it’s only four walls but sometimes

The mind is the smallest prison of all

Offering there upon offering

As a ball with a touch feels

Through its fall, through its fall

Too cold here

Turn yourself bleeding inside

Always look for walls

To lean beside

Too cold here

Turn yourself bleed it’s eyes

Always look for shade

To cover your eyes