|
Cold-blooded old times |
|
The type of memories |
|
That turns your bones to glass |
|
Turns your bones to glass |
|
Mother came rushing in |
|
She said we didn't see a thing |
|
We said we didn't see a thing |
|
And father left at eight |
|
Nearly splintering the gate |
|
Cold-blooded old times |
|
The type of memory |
|
That turns your bones to glass |
|
Turns your bones to glass |
|
And though you where |
|
Just a little swirl |
|
You understood every word |
|
And in this way they gave you clarity |
|
A cold-blooded clarity |
|
Cold-blooded old times |
|
Now how can i stand |
|
And laugh with the man |
|
Who redefined your body |
|
Those cold-blooded old times... |
