| Hide him away from the backhand of angry
|
| He’ll sit quietly as the fizzyness flows around
|
| Never seen wars before, never been to a party
|
| He says «they laugh like balloons, they dance like baboons
|
| They’re so different when it’s dark»
|
| Hiding away as the noise gets louder
|
| Watching the people loose in the corridor
|
| Too many questions
|
| He can’t stay long, this is not his world
|
| «Why are their lips even redder than
|
| The bad one in Snow White
|
| Why do they shout so, are they in pain
|
| I don’t understand
|
| Can’t stay much longer, I must tame my fox
|
| So this is what goes on when you grow old.»
|
| Hiding away in memory now sits my Prince laughing
|
| He had to go, we all have to go, there’s too much I didn’t ask
|
| Like «what happens when you know the answer
|
| But they’re so used to you being wrong?
|
| And why this cover when caught inside
|
| We’re heavy hearted, too close to the knives
|
| Our hearts are closing like hammer horror walls
|
| Fingermarked skin, hurt to the bone
|
| We don’t understand
|
| Oh, my Prince, answer please
|
| I’ll get the pencils
|
| We’ll draw ourselves a new world.» |