Love is, is a train that’s calling me home to you
And my heart is, but a thread that’s keeping me sewn to you, to you.
So tie this heavy heart down to the sea
And watch as shifting tides tilt you from me.
And if my hands are cold, doesn’t mean I’m growing old
‘cause these hands are moulds and they need your love to hold
And if my hands are cold, doesn’t mean I’m growing
Love is, is a flame that’s drawing my close to you
But my heart is, isn’t working like it’s supposed to do, to do.
So tie this heavy heart down to the sea
And watch as shifting tides tilt you from me.
And if my hands are cold, doesn’t mean I’m growing old
‘cause these hands are moulds and they need your love to hold
And if my hands are cold, doesn’t mean I’m growing old...
And if my hands are cold, doesn’t mean I’m growing old
‘cause these hands are moulds and they need your love to hold
If my hands are cold, doesn’t mean I’m growing old...
