It's cold in this neck of Ohio, tonight, and the style is right for a sad, winter song. I feel lost, like a speck in a pile, out of sight, and, though I try with all might, I just don't feel that strong. As we walk through the fields, trekking on snowy dirt, my eyes start to hurt, trying to see you smile. And, we talk about fears, making our stories short. You are scared to get shot; your bravery goes for miles. And, there's more miles to go as we walk the train tracks. I think we lost the rain, back in the woods, we just hiked. And, the store signs can glow as you walk sidewalk cracks. I think we lost the town, back, trading streetlamps for kites. The nursery and all of the trees cross over the dark. And, some old parking lots hold my whimpering thoughts and I'm on the next train. You and me, you and me, can't you see what this means, in the light of a torch? Realize, nothing is forced. Nothing is forced. It's cold in this neck of Pennsylvania, tonight. With the airplanes in flight, they plummet at my car. And, it's cold and I talk and I strain you to fight about pain at it's height and whatever you are. And, it's cold in this camp in Kentucky, tonight. And, the river's a sight as you sit on a branch. And, we've rolled up our sleeves and are lucky to fight about pain at it's height and we're taking a chance. The nursery and all of the trees cross over the dark. And, some old parking lots hold my whimpering thoughts and I'm on the next train. You and me, you and me, can't you see what this means, in the light of a torch? Realize, nothing is forced. Nothing is forced. The nursery and all of the trees cross over the dark. And, some old parking lots hold my whimpering thoughts and I'm on the next train. You and me, you and me, can't you see what this means, in the light of a torch? Realize, nothing is forced. Nothing is forced. Nothing is forced. Nothing is forced.