|
Knee deep and born into it, |
|
You didn't ask for this and don't I know it? |
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A father's son, |
|
We couldn't hope for less. |
|
Pry these workds from my cold dead lips, |
|
Home is where the heart is. |
|
And the ghosts I draw |
|
Will leave you cold. |
|
A bankrupt father |
|
To skin and bones. |
|
I'm moving over; |
|
I'm making room for you. |
|
I'm making room. |
|
I will occupy the space between |
|
What you say and what you mean. |
|
And you say |
|
That the devil's in the detail. |
|
And if that's true |
|
When he is through with me he will |
|
Sure as hell be after you. |
|
And the ghosts I draw |
|
Will leave you cold. |
|
A bankrupt father |
|
To skin and bones. |
|
We escape, we escape, we escape |
|
With our minds made up. |
|
We escape, we escape, we escape |
|
And our time is up. |
