The mouths of the best poets speak but a few words and then lay down, stone cold, in forgotten fields,
Life goes on in this ant farm town, cold to the lifeblood underfoot,
All talk and no touch,
I just wanna be real, I just wanna be real.
The colours here are monochrome; studies in one shade of grey,
The good times and the hard times cut from the same grey cloth,
All the fires that crackle here consume, but do not burn,
All light and no heat,
I just wanna be warm, I just wanna get warm.
The days, they rattle past me like a tunnel ‘round a train,
Landscapes and the heartaches – I don’t know how I feel,
All I know is: my condition is worse than I can tell,
The small talk and the slow burn,
And I just wanna be healed, I just wanna get well.
I just wanna…
I just wanna…
I just wanna get warm,
I just wanna…
I just wanna…
I just wanna get warm.
There are things I should remember, but I have forgotten how,
I’m all tied up, with no time, trying do too much,
And the thoughts that I’ve avoided are the ones I need right now,
Like a warm wind and love’s hand,
I just wanna be touched, I just wanna be touched,
I just wanna be real, I just wanna get well,
I just wanna be healed, I just wanna be warm.
Hey.
I just wanna…
I just wanna…
I just wanna…
I just wanna…
