Old Shoes - Sean Rowe

Though my shoes are not for winter

Though my hands are very cold

Though my pockets may be empty

I intend to find you on my own

Though the music has been fading

Though the cellos have gone home

Though the piano has been waiting

For some lonely man to play a note

I wrap my arm around your side

Put your hand where you can feel me

In this moment we’re alive

In this moment we can die free

How can I make you, make you understand?

Though the music has been fading

Though the cellos have gone home

The piano has been waiting

For some lonely man to play a note

I wrap my arm around your side

Put your hand where you can feel me

In this moment we’re alive

In this moment we can die free

How can I make you, make you understand?