The echoes of mutilation Fills the silent central station As I sit and wait On my own again I am the question That I try to comprehend I guess nothing really matters In the end Oh, the things he does To keep you safe and warm Oh, the things that I do To take care of you too He plays guitar And he smells like leather and beer I thought that I wanted To have you near Oh, the things he does To keep you safe and warm Oh, the things that I do To take care of you too