The Amputees Tindersticks

We are the amputees
Cut off at our knees
Something's tickling at our feet
No more the sufferers
The dull thud of us
Once our heels they clacked in the street

I miss you so bad
I miss you so bad

We are the stigmatized
The prostheticized
Our love and our hate smoothed and shined

No more extremities
No more possibilities
Like forgotten skittles we wait for our strike

I miss you so bad
I miss you so bad
I miss you so bad

If I could lean to you
I'd whisper in your ear
If I could reach for you
I'd touch you, I'd touch you
I'd touch you, I'd touch you
I'd touch you