Stay Cold
Nothing but rain. Nothing but ice. No hint of salvation
Those rolling eyes. Saw thru the bone. This colds done fucked our chances.
Bringing out the last in ourselves. It' s wringing out the love from our brittle bones
Tying up our hopes shaking on the floor
Yes, ways and means. That ripe old dance. Its in all our jaded faces
We were children once. Our love once wild. This colds done fucked our chances
Wringing out the love from our brittle bones
Writer/s: Toy Kjeldaas, Jonas Thire, Larsh Kristensen, Espen Helvig