Cold Bed

The cold tonight seems more anxious to talk
 Than he has seemed in nights before
 Skinless face and yellow heart, he
 Hesitates and I wait
 All my stories are about the same things
 I find so many beds for them
 I find this package of tiny lamps
 And it makes a firey ring
 Right now is the reason I carry this jewel
 Everywhere round my neck
 I keep it close but still outside
 This is my explanation
 All my stories are about the same things
 I find so many beds for them
 I find this package of tiny lamps
 And it makes a firey ring
 A box of love and sex and reflection
 Its got my face and hands
 The lonely is yellow and old
 Watch the cold around my bed
 All my stories are about the same things
 I find so many beds for them
 I find this package of tiny lamps
 And it makes a firey ring