Verse 1

At six, the fire had folded low

A thief stood dripping by the grate

One glove, a tear along his coat

A silver watch he couldn't take

Pre-Chorus

You asked him what he came here for

He looked at ash upon the floor

Chorus

You left the door unlatched for me

Though I came in to steal and flee

Now morning leans against the pane

And I can't carry off this shame

The fire keeps what I can't return

Your quiet hands, the coal's last burn

Verse 2

Your kettle clicked; the room turned gold