Cold Songtext
von Treadles

Morning comes, with it the sun
But I can′t pick me up
From off this dirty ground
Cold but for the sick, sickly light of dawn
Shimmery, shivering
I wave my skinny arms around
Sigh at my cigarette
Try not to think about it
Pink and bright the light's a knife
Said to slice the gray away But I can′t feel it today
Pale fingers on my neck
Honey-like hovering
Or is it concentrated breath
Sigh at my cigarette
Try not to think about it
Try not to think about it
Try not to think about it
Try not to think about it