| His bag was as close to me
|
| As the memory of his father and me
|
| But he moved it away before
|
| I had the chance to look into it at all
|
| His reaction was an eye full
|
| But I still had my mouth full
|
| And I couldn’t tell the truth
|
| We had everything to loose
|
| So I stood on a cigarette
|
| And decided we hadn’t finished yet
|
| I should tell him before I forget
|
| I’m surprised he hasn’t guessed it yet
|
| Take your pity and sympathy
|
| 'Cos there is nothing wrong with me
|
| The crutch of his wrinkled hand
|
| Clutched my spine and
|
| It wrecked me fine
|
| Black fingernails dug in
|
| I was wrenching and he cracked a grin
|
| I was frail I was painfully thin
|
| I never found my safety net
|
| Take your pity and sympathy
|
| 'Cos there is nothing wrong with me |