|
'Mid the pause |
|
In the wreckage came |
|
The peculiar light |
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Of a Saturday |
|
Fictions form |
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In the ghost of years |
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But they fell apart |
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As they always do |
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Seething limbs all stick together |
|
Where a firmer hand would serve you better |
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Cause the streets you walk are unforgiving |
|
And a softer voice takes longer hearing |
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Father said |
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Well there isn't much |
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That you couldn't do |
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WIth the right approach |
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Every hour |
|
Is a cavalcade |
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To be gazed upon |
|
As it slips away |
|
Seething limbs all stick together |
|
Where a firmer hand would serve you better |
|
Cause the streets you walk are unforgiving |
|
And a softer voice takes longer hearing |
|
Thought you'd found |
|
Everything you'd lost |
|
In the open arms |
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Of a council paw |
|
All our hopes |
|
On this summer's day |
|
Is it boring you? |
|
Cause it's boring you |
|
Seething limbs all stick together |
|
Where a firmer hand would serve you better |
|
Cause the streets you walk are unforgiving |
|
And a softer voice takes longer hearing |
|
A softer voice takes longer hearing |
