| In a winter’s room
|
| There’s a cold smell of dust
|
| In a centered room
|
| There’s a hot smell of must
|
| Though I do know who you’re doing it to
|
| I can’t argue, make it seem untrue
|
| There’s sweat upon his head
|
| There was something in that bed
|
| As he slowly walks away
|
| He’s leaving it — forget
|
| And there’s a small cry for help
|
| There’s a small cry for help
|
| There’s a small cry for help
|
| There’s a small cry for help
|
| There’s a small cry for help
|
| There’s a small cry for help
|
| There’s a small cry for help
|
| In a silent room
|
| There’s a heart full of gloom
|
| In a silent world
|
| There’s hearts without room
|
| Though I do know what he’s going thru
|
| I can’t argue, make it all untrue
|
| There’s sweat upon his head
|
| There was something in that bed
|
| As we slowly walk away
|
| We’re leaving it — forget
|
| And there’s a small cry for help
|
| There’s a small cry for help
|
| There’s a small cry for help
|
| There’s a small cry for help
|
| There’s a small cry for help
|
| There’s a small cry for help
|
| There’s a small cry for help
|
| Help, help me
|
| Help, help me
|
| Help, help me
|
| Help, help me |