The story
He keeps reaching for what won't hold its heat.
In the hush before morning, he stands by a sink, a tap running warm, trying to wash off a night that clings to him. The room stays small and still around him, with ordinary water and ordinary light, and that is what hurts: everything is close enough to touch, nothing close enough to keep.
No lyric sheet is published for this track, so this reading is drawn from its title and the sound of the record.
Lyrics
The lyric sheet for this one isn't published yet — press play and listen along.