The cold tonight seems more anxious to talk      Than he has seemed in nights before      Skinless face and yellow heart, he      Hesitates and I wait      All my stories are about the same things      I find so many beds for them      I find this package of tiny lamps      And it makes a firey ring      Right now is the reason I carry this jewel      Everywhere round my neck      I keep it close but still outside      This is my explanation      All my stories are about the same things      I find so many beds for them      I find this package of tiny lamps      And it makes a firey ring      A box of love and sex and reflection      Its got my face and hands      The lonely is yellow and old      Watch the cold around my bed      All my stories are about the same things      I find so many beds for them      I find this package of tiny lamps      And it makes a firey ring