|
Whispers like gunshots in the air |
|
She shivers in the wind |
|
The last leaf of a dying tree |
|
The hour approaching midnight |
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We're taking flight |
|
Our hands against the cold |
|
Breaking barriers |
|
Made in the olden days |
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And the tips of our fingers |
|
Growing numb with the night |
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The railing's too much to use |
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So we won't use our hands |
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With our balance thrown off |
|
We climb up the stairs |
|
Up to where we found a home |
|
In the woods off near the pond |
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It's so hard to know |
|
This is the last time |
|
You'll see me this year |
|
It's so hard to know |
|
You were my favorite this year |
|
Baby, the fire... |
|
Baby, the fire... |
|
BABY THE FIRE! |
|
BABY THE FIRE! |
|
It will burn us both |
|
'Cause our fire, baby |
|
There's no place for it in the world |
|
Our fire, baby |
|
There's no place for it in the world |
|
It'll always be ours... |
|
Always and never... |
|
Whispers like gunshots in the air |
|
She shivers in the wind |
|
The last leaf of a dying tree |
|
Whispers like gunshots in the air |
|
She shivers in the wind |
|
The last leaf of a dying tree |
|
She shivers in the wind |
|
Baby, the fire... |
|
Baby, the fire... |
|
BABY THE FIRE! |
|
(It will always be ours) |
|
BABY THE FIRE! |
|
It will burn us both |
|
'Cause our fire, baby |
|
There's no place for it in the world |
|
Our fire, baby |
|
There's no place for it in the world |
