Texty: Richard Thompson. Front Parlour Ballads. Cressida.

Love that holds its breath for fear
Of scaring love away
I rush my lines, I care too deeply
Oh, will she keep me for idle games?

I raise my eyes to see her there
Shining in a daydream
I raise my eyes, I see too much
I know her touch, what her touch would mean

I stare into, I stare into
The dying flames