It's cold outside and my fire's gone My girl is still two weeks from home I've got nothing to do and nothing to say But I never do, so anyway… Maybe I'll just call the boys We'll make some trouble And we'll make some noise Singing songs about how we feel Hoping someday they'll become real And I run to the arms of another song Another story by a man who's dead and gone When, when will I run When will I run to the arms of God? The prophet stood at the river's edge He said “Children, come and cleanse your hands You know what you did, you know how it felt You can't run from Jesus or yourself.” And I'm not the man I thought I was I never did what I said I'd done I'm scared of who I have become But the prodigals are still your sons And I run to the arms of another song Another story by a man who's dead and gone When, when will I run When will I run to the arms of God?