It's getting cold inside this house
all is quiet in the echo of the shout
I hear you crying up the stairs
February's not been kind over the years
will we make it there from here
come on baby, aren't you just a little sick of the fear
I can see you're terrified
but it only makes it harder when we lie
apocalyptic so to speak
I missed the earthquake lying back in bed asleep
they say it hailed out on the beach
you say something comes between the supernatural and me
will we make it there from here
come on baby aren't you just a little sick of the fear
I can see your shaking hands
things don't always turn out like we planned
I'm sick of how I talk about you to myself
I'm afraid of what you'll ruin
with what you deserve
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