Manic Street Preachers - Too Cold Here lyrics
[Manic Street Preachers - Too Cold Here lyrics]
Born in burial gowns, recessing slowly
You soon wish you couldn't see at all
Tortured in the mind, six voices alone
Futile gestures, emotionless groans
Everyone asks what's wrong, but what's right?
And a cute lie makes everything uptight
To kill your dream before it's considered
To live in silence, airless closet, no vision
It's easier to make love to a stranger
Than to ask a friend to call
Suspicion knows nothing
And is known for not much at all much at all
Too cold here ten years of bleeding inside
Always look for walls to lean beside
Too cold here
Ten years of bleeding it's eyes
Always look for shade to cover your eyes
Self-pity it'self is so shallow
I'm so sick in mind and body
Heart cold as stone
Whiskey Mac aroma, peace of mind
Hello Mr Samson, you can clean my soul
Wake up sighing, mass for the bleeding
Never share sadness, mine
No man prays painless
Coalescing, mine are hidden rooms
Cannot give anything and never could
Prison, it's only four walls, but sometimes
The mind is the smallest prison of all
Offering there upon offering
As a ball with a touch feels
Through it's fall, through it's fall
Too cold here ten years of bleeding inside
Always look for walls to lean beside
Too cold here
Ten years of bleeding it's eyes
Always look for shade to cover your eyes
You soon wish you couldn't see at all
Tortured in the mind, six voices alone
Futile gestures, emotionless groans
Everyone asks what's wrong, but what's right?
And a cute lie makes everything uptight
To kill your dream before it's considered
To live in silence, airless closet, no vision
It's easier to make love to a stranger
Than to ask a friend to call
Suspicion knows nothing
And is known for not much at all much at all
Too cold here ten years of bleeding inside
Always look for walls to lean beside
Too cold here
Ten years of bleeding it's eyes
Always look for shade to cover your eyes
Self-pity it'self is so shallow
I'm so sick in mind and body
Heart cold as stone
Whiskey Mac aroma, peace of mind
Hello Mr Samson, you can clean my soul
Wake up sighing, mass for the bleeding
Never share sadness, mine
No man prays painless
Coalescing, mine are hidden rooms
Cannot give anything and never could
Prison, it's only four walls, but sometimes
The mind is the smallest prison of all
Offering there upon offering
As a ball with a touch feels
Through it's fall, through it's fall
Too cold here ten years of bleeding inside
Always look for walls to lean beside
Too cold here
Ten years of bleeding it's eyes
Always look for shade to cover your eyes