Burned Up Hands -

The night was an old stray dog,

It was bitter and cold, lonely and hard as stone.

She walked with the world on her shoulders,

As the night crept in colder and colder

And with each step in the rain there rose a melancholic refrain

that sang you’reall alone.

It sang you’re all alone.

He’s older and wiser and bored,

As a young man he lived by the sword,

Till he found out that love was a knife and got cut one too many times.

The table was slightly romantic,

But the scene placed upon it was tragic,

She tried to hard not to need he spent all night trying not to bleed

They both longed for the sun in the morning a hand in the afternoon,

The sweet kind of recklessness,

Innocent born in youth,

Before that hole in her heart,

Before he found out that love was sharp,

Well she could re-light the fire but she’d come back with burned up hands,

And he could re-light the fire but he’d come back with burned up hands,

And they could re-light the fire but they’d come back with burned up hands.