|
Michael's bones |
|
Lay where he fell |
|
Face down on a sports ground |
|
Oh ... |
|
He was just somebody's luckless son |
|
Oh, but now look what he's done |
|
Oh, look what he's done |
|
Your gentle hands are frozen |
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And your unkissed lips are blue |
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Your thinning clothes are hopeless |
|
And no one was mad about you |
|
Michael's bones |
|
Were very young |
|
But they were never to know |
|
Oh ... |
|
Impetuous fun |
|
Mr. policeman |
|
I don't know where you get such notions from |
|
His gentle hands are frozen |
|
And his unkissed lips are blue |
|
But his eyes still cry |
|
And now you've turned the last bend |
|
And see - are we all judged the same at the end? |
|
Tell me, tell me |
|
Oh, you lucky thing |
|
You are too brave |
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And i'm ashamed of myself |
|
As usual |
|
Oh ... |
