Lyrics Ezra Furman – Cold Hands

I don’t want your money
I don’t want your car
I don’t want you to love me
No need to take it so far

I see nothing finer
I see nothing to gain
No particular pleasure
To measure up to the pain
I just want to be held in your cold hands
And I want to be held in your cold hands

Now I’m a dog in the moonlight
And I’m a punk in the grass
I’m at your bedroom window tonight
Scratching up on the glass
I wanna be held in your cold hands
I just want to be held in your cold hands