Cold Days from the Birdhouse

Another hotel with ruined plans
Romantic gesture with ruined plans
And so you make it your own but this is where your arm can’t go
You make it your own
Another phone call with ruined plans
Romantic gesture with ruined plans
And so you make it your own but this is where your arm can’t go
You make it your own but this is where your arm can’t go
And your red sky at night won’t follow me, it won’t follow me now
I won’t wear your shoes and I won’t clip your wings
I see it when you lied, we all look so surprised
And will you come back? Will you come back?
And breathing in smoke signs like a puppet told to drive
And will you come back? Will you come back?
And your red sky at night won’t follow me, it won’t follow me now
And your red sky at night won’t follow me, it won’t follow me now
And your red sky at night won’t follow me, it won’t follow me now
And your red sky at night won’t follow me, you won’t follow me now
And where are your manners? So where are your manners?
And where are your manners? And where are your manners?
So where are your manners? And where are your manners?
And where are your manners? And where are your manners?
So where are your manners? And where are your manners?
So where are your manners? And where are your manners?
And where are your manners? So where are your manners?
So where are your manners?