Running down 3rd Street, 4AM,

Barenaked trees I can hardly feel my hands

And I start to ponder," What am I running from?",

Is it the cold that numbs my body,

Or the fear of feeling nothing at all?"


Hold on we've got to slow down because,

We're making a mess of love,

Hold on, yeah we're movin' to fast 

You know we're making a mess of love,


The first snow spent alone in your apartment,

And the mere thought of comittment sits in the back of my mind,

Recently the two of us jumped off that train,

And killed the pain that sustained us from what we wished to be but,


It's so strange,

The places we go just to escape,

To feel alive,

To drive all night,

We just want to know who we are,

Who to love and how to stay satisfied