Mittens - Frank Turner

Wandering lonely through the snow streets of New York

I stumbled on a thrift store that sold postcards by the yard

I bought a mile and shipped them home so I could read

Ten thousand ten-word tragedies, the lives these strangers lead

To remind myself the things I need

I once wrote you love songs

You never fell in love

We used to fit like mittens, but never like gloves

You left me feeling like we’d never really been in love

Huddled homebound in my place in Holloway

I wondered if you even heard those songs I used to play

I wrote them as a gift for you and in return

You gave a pair of hand-knit mittens to keep my fingers warm

So I could play more ignored love songs

I once wrote you love songs

You never fell in love

We used to fit like mittens, but never like gloves

I once wrote you postcards

But you never wrote back

You promised me you would and I’m still waiting for that

You left me feeling like we’d never really been in love

Don’t want to fit like mittens

I want to fit like gloves

I want to fit like gloves

I want to fit like gloves

I once wrote you love songs

You never fell in love

We used to fit like mittens, but never like gloves

But never like gloves