Three Mile Island - Arms

Haven’t found the time to feed us

Curled and weeping audibly — ooh, what a scene

Folds its spine and lie between us

Sprawled upon the lawn for all to see

Do the warnings give you shivers

Are your mornings grim and grey — ooh, we’re the same

We’ll sit in air-conditioned theaters

Wile away the hours until we change

Maybe in time

Something will soothe your trouble in mind

Riot in your pores

Till you don’t mind

The itch in your feet

The sounds at night

The devil at your door

Swinging cats in pillowcases

Smacking hats off people’s heads — ooh things were said

That singed the eyebrows from their faces

Planted seeds of worry in their beds

Maybe in time

Something will soothe your trouble in mind

Fire in your bones

Baby, you’re big with the news when i get home

You’re marking where it starts, and where it ends

And watching how the look of love, it burns, and bends

And how the sidewalk doesn’t end,

It just turns into road