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