|
(Martin Page/Brian Fairweather) |
|
I have your photograph |
|
I have it hanging on my wall |
|
You neither cry or laugh |
|
Finding it hard to forget it all |
|
Oh I'm reachin' out my invisible hands |
|
To touch you |
|
Oh I'm reachin' out my invisible hands |
|
To feel you |
|
You make the evening news |
|
You never had an alibi |
|
Your evidence my be the truth |
|
But they believed my lies |
|
Oh I'm reachin' out my invisible hands |
|
To touch you |
|
Oh I'm reachin' out my invisible hands |
|
To feel you |
|
Is it a lie |
|
When you're asking me why |
|
Hold out my had |
|
When you don't understand |
|
Is it a lie |
|
When you're asking me why |
|
Who fires the gun..gun..gun..gun |
|
Oh I'm reachin' out my invisible hands |
|
To touch you |
|
Oh I'm reachin' out my invisible hands |
|
To feel you |
|
Is it a lie |
|
When you're asking me why |
|
Hold out my had |
|
When you don't understand |
|
Is it a lie |
|
When you're asking me why |
|
Who fires the gun..gun..gun..gun |
|
Oh I'm reachin' out my invisible hands |
|
To touch you |
|
Oh I'm reachin' out my invisible hands |
|
To feel you |