My tongue is scailing the North face of your neck
And we're glaring like warriors but,
I've a feelin' you won't look at me that way in the morning
Cos lately you seem less sure of this thing
You're like Bambi on Ice
And there's something in the flash of your arms
A certain longing

Kick the can I can't see you now behind that temper and ire
Mister wolf knows what time it is
He says it's dinner time
I don't know what you're carrying or how you're heart is wired
But there's a dangerous ticking

I cut the red one, No, the Blue one
I cut the red one,
I cut the blue one
Raking over the embers and what I come accross?

Is that you, combing your hair?
Is that me, eating an egg?

And are we there
Like John Boy said?

My tongue is scaling the North face of your neck
And we're glaring like warriors but,
I've a feelin' you won't look at me that way
I've a feelin' you won't look at me that way
I've a feelin' you won't look at me that way
In the morning

Is this how it goes,
In these, the final throws?