My tongue is scailing the North face of your neck And we're glaring like warriors but, I've a feelin' you won't look at me that way in the morning Cos lately you seem less sure of this thing You're like Bambi on Ice And there's something in the flash of your arms A certain longing Kick the can I can't see you now behind that temper and ire Mister wolf knows what time it is He says it's dinner time I don't know what you're carrying or how you're heart is wired But there's a dangerous ticking. I cut the red one, No, the Blue one I cut the red one, I cut the blue one Raking over the embers and what I come accross? Is that you, combing your hair? Is that me, eating an egg? And are we there Like John Boy said? My tongue is scaling the North face of your neck And we're glaring like warriors but, I've a feelin' you won't look at me that way I've a feelin' you won't look at me that way I've a feelin' you won't look at me that way In the morning. Is this how it goes, In these, the final throws?