Walk with me quiet, walk with me slow. With watered down coffee and words of gold. 'Cause I can feel the edges of these things. When I hear you speak to me.
Heart is a lonely thing to lose in the dead of the night. The heart is a sad thing to lose in the throws of a fight. The heart is a match to the fire.
A bus station, in the steam from the rain. In this line of pale strangers, should I go or stay?. The whole field of vision, fades beneath me now. And the houses spread for a million miles, in this gray town.