Oven Mitts

Decent into depression.

'Cause there's comfort in the cold
when I convince myself i'm old
And there's magic in the black
Fumbling around again and back

Crazy ain't it, that you're losing time
Flinching now at every rhyme
Don't look back, you've closed that door
Jealous now of every whore.

'Cause you've started wearing oven mitts
You've been burnt one too many times it's
times like this at other's request
That your fake smiles work their best.