Like I just rocked my baby to sleep
Shaky hands. Shaky eyes. Shaky smiles, the same for everyone.
Never calm - always, by the same token.
Frankie's a natural, doesn't get breathless when he's nervous.
It's not right to be calm about this kind of stuff, Molly knows. Obviously, that's what's sick about it - you can be so down you think you need it, and never come up for air ever after.
She's got her own good to be getting on with.
Is it a waste? Please say it isn't a waste.
Calm. Steady. Shrunken pupils burning bright.
He's got a natural rhythm, Molly-O. And it's shakes, shakes, shakes.