By the roadside shrine there's a place Selling bouquets of cellophane That's where they meet in this desolate place And the more they see, the more they say Thrown like two winter roses Into a broken vase ;
They're playing the hand they play Caught in the game they made
She puts her faith in the moment Outsiders He puts his faith in the moment Outsiders
And his clothes are covered in dew As she writhes in twisted sheets Feel the pulse and the power of you And what you see isn't what's underneath ;