I’ve been kicking little thoughts inside my head Are any of them getting me anywhere? Any of them getting me anywhere? A slave to repetition and circumstance (From my heart to my hand, A cold reach for your warm skin) With a Twain-like wit And a cat-like grin Perpetually pulling me in You're wearing worry on your face again And it’s not like you to be so obvious
(From my heart to my hand, A cold reach for your warm skin) Stop by come on up and see me I’ll be doing fine I’ll be doing fine There will come a day When I can’t do this anymore And it’s hard to climb the stairs to your backdoor There will come a time When it will all go wrong in your life And you need to get more Need to get more