Cold Hands by miscellaneous owl

I hear the boots upon the ground tonight
The rose upon the cheek of the libertine
And all the lost boys will be found tonight
Tasting whiskey cokes and kerosene

Cold hands cradle the flame of my memories
Do you see the flicker of your name?

And in the lamplight in the snow tonight
The flexing of a glove outlined in black
Hollow fingers like a new hand for a hermit crab
Cloud City was pretty but I'm never going back

Cold hands reach for a glove to slip into
To listen to, to illuminate, to love

And I've just been wasting time
I could have been in some field so far from here
With the sun burning on my shoulders
And someone breathing summer in my ear

I hear the lapping of the wolf tonight
Incinerator glow in a highball glass
Canned Heat flutes the air in the bar like a manticore
I hate it but I know all things must pass

Cold hands strike cold like the little match girl
Matchmaker, will the tinder spark to life?

• Rock
• Surf Rock
• bedroom pop
• indie folk
• indie pop
• indie rock
• lofi
• surf
• Madison