You stand with a hand on my waist line
Good to see that we're out here in plain sight
I can hear them whisper as we pass by
It's a bad sign, bad sign
Something happens when everybody finds out
See the vultures circling in dark cloud
Love's a fragile little flame, it could burn out
It could burn out cause they got their cages, they got their boxes, and guns, they are the hunters, we are the foxes and we run