And all I recall is your face in the cold And the tear in your eye cuts like a knife. Oh and I'm not prepared for the stone in my shoe. And I'm not
in sin's magnificent grace. The night shall pass and a cold morning breeze shall obscure the traces of my pittyful existence. For not a stone shall mark
of the earth The inner stream of burning blood A grain of sand - the fastest stone I am the fertile soil below I am dreadful like a violent gale And gentle
come on down Dance to my symphony, the marble of all sound The screaming in you ear, yeah I welcome you Explore the solitude; it's all flesh and bone You'll sweat it out cold as stone
. shop-window. heel. Shady gentleman. fly-button. feel. In the underpass, the blind man stands. With cold flute hands. Symphony match-seller, breath out
names they advertise from the station stand. Circumcised with cold print hands. Windy bus-stop. Click. Shop-window. Heel. Shady gentleman. Fly-button. Feel. In the underpass, the blind man stands. With cold
gone, gone, gone Take my bones, I don't need none Cold, cold cupboard, lord, nothing to chew on! Suck all day on a cherry stone Dig a little hole, not
Did you ever wonder why the wind blows cold? Did you ever realize your face is painted on my soul? In between your whispers so sincere I'll catch
ever known ------- REPEAT CHORUS: No hearts and flowers my love in stone is formed And in the fire of your gentleness I've warmed Orphans' dreams lost and cold
mornin' When you're stone cold sober again Down in the alley again Stone cold sober again Stone cold sober again Down in the alley again Stone cold sober
there for her Breaks down the bodies to dark subtle ink And she scrawls on the parchments that hang in the air She rides a horse over stones
lived upon a farm. Strange and gentle country folk Who would wish nobody harm. Fresh-cut sixty acres, Eight cows in the barn. But the thing that I remember On that cold
That I so deeply love you dear one can you forgive? My face turned to the desert you left me all alone And cold beneath my eyelids my eyes have turned to stone
of coal; His wife was dying of cold and he was penniless. Maybe in the morning, as the politician sipped breakfast tea, She lay cold and dead before
Did you ever wonder why the wind blows cold? Did you ever realize your face is painted on my soul? In between your whispers so sincere I?ll catch
to my symphony, the marble of all sound The screaming in you ear, yeah I welcome you Explore the solitude; it's all flesh and bone You'll sweat it out cold as stone
cold print hands. Windy bus-stop. Click. Shop-window. Heel. Shady gentleman. Fly-button. Feel. In the underpass, the blind man stands. With cold flute