Cold Aisle, Warm Hand
Style: Chamber folk

[Verse 1]
Tins stacked up on metal shelves
Cold glass doors and no one else
You reach in past the frosted air
And hand me one, I don't know where

[Pre-chorus]
The cold comes off the glass in waves
My hand finds yours between the aisles
And something steady starts to pull

[Chorus]
John, you make the small things hold
Something warm inside the cold
Every quiet aisle we've known
John, I'd walk it all with John

[Verse 2]
Peaches syrup thick and gold
Nothing here that needs be told
You set the basket down and grin
I forget what we came in for again

[Bridge]
No grand light, no perfect scene
Just a trolley wheel that squeaks between
You laughing low at nothing much
That's the whole of it, your hand, your touch

[Chorus]
John, you make the small things hold
Something warm inside the cold
Every quiet aisle we've known
John, I'd walk it all with John

[Outro]
The glass still fogs, the tins still wait
I'd choose this aisle, this hand, this weight

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