Three false starts and a deck of marked cards
Well, I confess, ain't the way to begin
This slip of tongue, just the habit of a lifetime
Barometer of where I've been

A mystic in a crushed velvet suit
A gigolo in jackboots
Bystander in a crowded room
This concrete-bunker heart was an empty tomb

But her foreign accents seduced
All those steely fingers holding me back
Her whispered tales of basement passion
That melting pot! Oh, the die was cast
There was sweat on her face
Trembling hands trying to trace
The power I felt in a one-on-one
Surprisingly enough I felt no urge to run

Sometimes it can be so hard
Most times it'll turn you cold
It's gonna turn you cold

So I can understand what you feel
You've got something to protect
At the same time you're wondering
If the move you finally made is worth what you get
Well, I don't know...

I would never take my own advice
But for what it's worth let me throw it your way
You can probably keep on winning
But all you've got are penny-ante stakes

When it comes to how you feel
Being four-fifths what you steal
When your cover's finally blown
You'd better make up your mind, or you're on your own

Sometimes it can be so hard
Most times it'll turn you cold
It's gonna turn you cold
It's gonna turn you cold
Don't let it turn you cold...