This red-haired girl of mine tore a pinecone from the pine, to cut into her palm, singing the song her sinking lover sung. I shut my eyes, ripped the train from off the line, but a sudden gust of snow blew through a hole in my girl's clothes. Well, my girl knows she's not all right, and I don't mind. Just give me time, baby, give me time. Her stinging eyes, and her sixteen-hour drive, and our shared, transparent rope, and our icy dive through hope I'll memorize, and I'll cut into my mind. I can't believe it can be so. I won't believe that my girl froze. Well, my girl knows I'm coiled tight and green inside. Just give me time, baby, give me time. And that weight you hold, it's getting light, and, love, I know you'll raise it easily up high. Just give it time, just give it time. Oh baby, just give it time.
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