Slide

Slide, slide,

Slide as we did of old,

From the hands that keep out the cold,

From the fire that burns low –

Slide. Slide.

Slide, slide.

Slide through your darkest days,

When you step out of the haze

And you find yourself broken –

Slide. Slide.

Does it make us that strange?

Slide, slide,

Slide as we did of old,

From the hands that keep out the cold,

From the fire that burns low –

Slide. Slide.