Into My Hands - The Church

I take love into my hands

Journey back to winterland

Cut my losses, grow my hair

See some man to take me there

As it gets so uncertain

When the girl gets too near

It’s never as good as I hoped

Or as bad as I feared

Some seek sleek and slithering charms

Out of reach their grasping arms

Our skin like milk, our breath of words

Like happy, awful and absurd

You know it’s always out here in my head

Stupid bloody things get said

Then drifting on a summer pond

I notice that my love has gone