my arms are full of humanity   i stole it from you when you were smoking   and i know you won't miss it   not even a bit      accidents happen   but you never did   i'm the forgotten change in your pocket    of the old winter coat   the newspaper's stacking, neat fold      oh, to be held again   to be spent or read   put aside again   that would be the greatest thing   but your fire's burning out   i think you know by now   that i'm getting sick and tired   of waiting      so we'll sit side by side and we'll stare   hating that we share the same air   there's no room for speaking   and nothing will ever be said   we're the babies in cradles at night   sleeping peacefully but only out of fright   that if we wake up   the monsters will come track us down      we want to be held again   to be close or dead   sung to sleep again   that would be the greatest thing   but our fire's burning out   i think we know by now   that we're both sick and tired of waiting      the floors i sleep on at night   they speak to me   their strange voices tell me   all things true   you say when something's dead, it's dead   theres just no reviving it   just bury it   and move on, move on      oh, to be held again   to be held again   to be held again   oh, oh