These glovéd hands, they intertwine
As water changes into wine
And in the night, so dark and cold
We watch all of their dreams unfold
The sluts, with hands up in the air
I feign a cheer, as if I care
I turn around to see you gone,
Your instrument, a lonely pawn
On your return, your eyes are red,
I want to help; he does instead
And as you cry, I look aside,
And hope to God that you’re alright.
We win the game, and I don’t mind
To them this is a happy time
But in the stands, so far away,
To us it’s just another day.