| Darlin', don’t you understand?
|
| That there are no winners?
|
| Or medals hung from silken strands
|
| To greet you at the finish
|
| As we’re dissolving into the sea
|
| I only take what I can carry
|
| As the council’s combing through our debris
|
| For the treasures we never buried
|
| My love, why do you run?
|
| For my hands hold no guns
|
| Darling though you may pretend
|
| Pretend that you are selfless
|
| You break with but the slightest bend
|
| That leaves you lost and helpless
|
| So to whom will you place the call?
|
| In the coldest night of winter?
|
| As numbers change and people fall
|
| And friends, they always splinter
|
| My love, why do you run?
|
| For my hands hold no guns
|
| My love, why do you run?
|
| For my hands hold no guns
|
| They hold no guns
|
| No, not one |