| Could have been something else
|
| Been hands held
|
| Cold fingers warmed by the touch
|
| Just gonna slip away?
|
| Woulda softly prayed…
|
| I won’t lift you up
|
| Could have been something else
|
| Been hands held
|
| Cold fingers warmed by the touch
|
| Just gonna slip away?
|
| Woulda softly prayed…
|
| I won’t lift you up
|
| The haughty pauper
|
| Ice in his salt water
|
| Nine daughters each more gorgeous
|
| The night caught us
|
| At night, hear the forest, inching closer to light rain
|
| The cook fire smolder, the night came
|
| Like soldiers on night watch
|
| He watched 'em get older
|
| Father over every shoulder
|
| Still it’s secrets they be holdin'
|
| (still it’s secrets they be holdin')
|
| It’s things only women be knowin'
|
| They ignored the boys joking
|
| The grown man who just watch, nothin' spoken
|
| Eyes gropin' thighs
|
| If looks could, leers would force they thighs open
|
| He scold 'em, the king of lies take any disguise
|
| They nodded in unison
|
| Hair greased, skin golden
|
| Night falls
|
| The hills come alive
|
| Black Von Trapps, He know he can’t die
|
| Ride the river to the mouth of darkness, but no further
|
| Nine girls but if you touch a hair it’s murder
|
| In town some joke, he keeping 'em for his self
|
| Idle talk, he don’t indulge, when he come through they quiet as hell
|
| (Nobody said a word)
|
| Used to do the things we used to do
|
| The do, the things we used to do
|
| The things we used to do
|
| The things to do the things we used to do
|
| We used to do the things
|
| We used to do the things
|
| We used to do the things
|
| To do the things, we used to do
|
| I’m not like you and your little friends
|
| So don’t ask why we can’t be like them
|
| Can barely focus, guess this what they meant
|
| For all that hocus pocus, light gettin' dim
|
| Defiant, like we gon' fight 'til the end
|
| Go 'head, try it, but that’s easier said
|
| I’ll sleep when you’re dead
|
| Die in my sleep, grinnin', give it a week
|
| That’s a freak in the bed, a stiff in the sheets
|
| The buzzer ring, dishes in the sink
|
| Leftovers in the fridge, it’s manuscripts in his things
|
| Half done, Agricole rum in my mouth like I blaspheme
|
| We used to do the things we used to do
|
| To do the things we used to do
|
| The things we used to do
|
| The things we used to do
|
| To do the things we used to do
|
| The things we used to do
|
| The things we used to do
|
| The things to do the things
|
| To do the things, to do the things
|
| To do the things, to do the things
|
| To do the things, to do the things
|
| Do the things, do the things
|
| Do the things, do the things
|
| More than that, uh, we understand that there is a complexity, like you did,
|
| with this man, and the pain he’s in and the frustration and, uh,
|
| the lack of love that he experiences for himself, that the has for himself.
|
| I think that’s important. |
| Uh, he’s certainly, like all human beings,
|
| capable of loving, uh, in some form, to some extent, you know
|
| He’s also physically attractive and he loves beautiful things |