My tongue is scailing the North face of your necknAnd we're glaring like warriors but,nI've a feelin' you won't look at me that way in the morningn'cause lately you seem less sure of this thingnYou're like Bambi on IcenAnd there's something in the flash of your armsnA certain longingnnKick the can I can't see you now behind that temper and ire nMister wolf knows what time it isnHe says it's dinner time nI don't know what you're carrying or how you're heart is wired nBut there's a dangerous ticking.nnI cut the red one, No, the Blue onenI cut the red one,nI cut the blue onenRaking over the embers and what I come across?nnIs that you, combing your hair?nIs that me, eating an egg?nnAnd are we therenLike John Boy said?nnMy tongue is scaling the North face of your necknAnd we're glaring like warriors but,nI've a feelin' you won't look at me that way nI've a feelin' you won't look at me that way nI've a feelin' you won't look at me that way nIn the morning.nnIs this how it goes,nIn these, the final throws?