Cold Bed

The cold tonight seems more anxious to talk
Than he has seemed in nights before
Skinless face and yellow heart, he
Hesitates and I wait
All my stories are about the same things
I find so many beds for them
I find this package of tiny lamps
And it makes a firey ring
Right now is the reason I carry this jewel
Everywhere round my neck
I keep it close but still outside
This is my explanation
All my stories are about the same things
I find so many beds for them
I find this package of tiny lamps
And it makes a firey ring
A box of love and s** and reflection
Its got my face and hands
The lonely is yellow and old
Watch the cold around my bed
All my stories are about the same things
I find so many beds for them
I find this package of tiny lamps
And it makes a firey ring