The Coldest Room in the House - The Speed of Sound in Seawater

It’s 27 degrees

You wanna free up those sheets?

Our extremities

Frost bitten quite deeply

I can’t make my bed with you in it

I sorely wish that we could lie another minute

We can’t have that, for fear you might leave my pocket

And once it starts there’s not a lot that can stop it

I fail to find the thermostat

And I can’t ask you where it’s at

Because to rouse you from your sleep

Would disrupt a thing of beauty

Don’t be shy

Pull the faceplate on the enclosure aside

You’ll be a hero to this house

If you can banish the cold without

You should read the things that I have read

The ease with which men end up in your bed

You work within such lax prerequisites

For fear of finding your bed desolate

I could care less what you do

It just reflects poorly upon you

You could care less what I say

But I swear you’ll wake up alone someday

I am not alright