Lyrics:

Your skin is cold
But the sun shines within your hold
Your hair is gold
But you see through a goldfish bowl
I feel old, sick, and tired

We walk the streets
Gently staring, wondering what to do
The sun in sheets
Pouring down those streets to eyes green and blue

And a ship with eight sails could come 'round the bend
Or a herd of bulls charging stoplights red
I'd be blind
You broke my heart, Danny Boy
Not your fault, Danny Boy

I was had at the doorstep
Played, like a two to a four-set
Had like poor Job in the Bible by God

Day comes, I wake
I wake with a hard heartache
I go down to your place

We sit and chat
Chat about new york and trips to the bayou
My smile, a trick
Tricking me and trying not to scare you

And a ship with eight sails could come 'round the bend
Or a herd of bulls charging stoplights red
I'd be blind
You broke my heart, Danny Boy
Not your fault, Danny Boy

I was had at the doorstep
Played, like a two to a four-set
Had like poor Job in the Bible by God
I was had at the doorstep
Had like a two to a four-set
Played, like poor Job in the Bible by God