Cold Fingers

Cold fingers... They’re turning blue, they’re turning blue, he can’t find his keys, He's stuck in the dew. A frozen touch... His steering wheel is made of ice, He'd pay for gloves at any price. He’s the man, the man with the cold fingers, A chill that stays, a frost that lingers, And his hands are numb, he’s lost all feeling, He’s shivering now, his fate is sealing, Cold fingers... (instrumental bridge) (verse 2) The engine stalls, the breath hangs thick, A ghost of steam, a rhythmic tick. He searches pockets, deep and worn, For anything to keep them warm. The dashboard light, a dying glow, Reflects the world beneath the snow. He’s the man, the man with the cold fingers, A memory lost, a ghost that lingers, And the silence grows, the shadows creeping, While the winter wind is softly weeping, Cold fingers... the night is deep, He’s drifting off to endless sleep. (outro) He sees the lights. they're flashing blue. The sirens sound with hope renewed. And then the man, the man with cold fingers, now dreams of Spring and the warmth that it will bring. But until then, he'll still have cold fingers. Cold fingers, the man has cold fingers.