After the flood you began to laugh
For the very first time since I'd tried to dance
To "Money's Too Tight To Mention"
Or something by George Benson
And you dropped all that luggage you'd been carting around
And for the first time in years you let your skin turn brown
You were acting without intention
Or chance or divine intervention
The world lies tired and naked
But we're so satiated
We're in its arms
And after the fire you went to gather more wood
To relight the spark but it was no good
For the sky had conspired against you
It rained on your parade yeah it drenched you
Bring your hot
(Bring your hot)
Bring your cold
(Bring your cold)
Bring your young
(Bring your young)
Bring your old
(Bring your old)
Bring your weary
(Bring your weary)
Bring your parched
(Bring your parched)
Bring your 'for reals'
(Bring your 'for reals')
Or your farced
The world lies tired and naked
But we're so satiated
Every winter has its ending
Every scar begins its mending
Oh we're in its arms