The Church - Into my hands

I take love into my hands Journey back to winterland Cut my losses, grow my hair See some man to take me there As it gets so uncertain When the girl gets too near It's never as good as I hoped Or as bad as I feared Some seek sleek and slithering charms Out of reach their grasping arms Our skin like milk, our breath of words Like happy, awful and absurd You know it's always out here in my head When stupid bloody things get said Then drifting on a summer pond I notice that my love has gone