Tokens for tolls, motoring to the North Pole so we can be cold to the touch, and overdressed but not by much. So don't leave me. Baby, you could breath me, if I ever became the air. And this shirt's been overworn but understood. And handed down to warm you up when you're pressing your bar feet on winter windowsills, your bedroom window sill. Where it's 35 degrees, Celcius, not celci-you or me. Let's keep warm together. Sweater weather's long gone now, and I will await it's arrival next autumn when central park is closer than this getaway. So let's let it come to us, and we'll be waiting. Let's let it come to us and we'll be ready for, Let's let it come to us and we'll be waiting. Let's let it come to us and we'll be ready. Where whipping winds can bit at your rosy cheeks.
Lyrics submitted by brittfest