Outsiders

By the roadside shrine there's a place Selling bouquets of cellophane That's where they meet in this desolate place And the more they see the more they say Thrown like two winter roses into a broken vase They're playing the hand they play Caught in the game they made She puts her faith in the moment Outsiders He puts his faith in the moment Outsiders And his clothes are covered in dew As she writhes in twisted sheets Feel the pulse and the power of you And what you see isn't what's underneath They're playing the hand they play Caught in the game they made She puts her faith in the moment Outsiders He puts his faith in the moment Outsiders She puts her faith in the moment Outsiders He puts his faith in the moment Outsiders Outsiders Outsiders Outsiders Outsiders