Tekster: Kent. Hagnesta Hill. Whistle Song.

There is something in her eyes that's making me scared
It's clinging to my shirt now like static in her hair
And something here is wrong I heard it when she spoke
Her dust flows through my veins now, I'm yesterday's joke

And it seems impossible to meet her simple needs
She breaths invincible and it's giving me the creeps
She is still the wild one here, the incendiary soul
She is in flame and I am cold, God I'm getting old

She is talking through a yawn and the radio is on
I listen through the thin walls, someone is whistling along
There is something in the air squeezing out sparks
The striplight flickers and then dies and leaves us in the dark

And it seems impossible to make the ending speak
She breathes invincible and it's giving me the creeps
She is still the wild one here, the incendiary soul
She is in flame and I am cold, God I'm getting old, God it's getting cold

And I'd make you a believer because you're not a receiver
And you're now a believer and you're not a receiver
And I'll make you a believer because you're not a receiver
And I'll make you a believer because you're not a receiver
I'll make you a believer because you're not a receiver
Yeah, I'll make you a believer because you're not a receiver