The Intensity

The Christmas card you gave me
Is all tattered and torn to pieces, lying by the backdoor.
The window pane she threw her glass through
Is all shattered and scattered across the floorboards.
Look what you did, you made a mess of this.
Look what you did, you let the cold in.

So follow the trace of the memory to her lips.
He says he's not breathing in and out now until her eyes burn
With the intensity, just as if we could see, right through the fire
Right through the fire.

The inspector smokes the cigarette and takes the statement,
And photographs her body by the backdoor.
The window pane she through her glass through
Is all tagged and bagged like it was evidence.

Look what you did, you made a mess of this.
Look what you did, you let the cold in.

So follow the trace of the memory to her lips.
He says he's not breathing in and out now until her eyes burn
With the intensity, just as if we could see, right through the fire
Right through the fire.

So follow the trace of the memory to her lips.
He says he's not breathing until her eyes burn
With the intensity, just as if we could see, right through the fire
Right through the fire.