| He tip toes, from brick to brick,
|
| And skips the cracks or he gets sick,
|
| Counting sheep losing sleep,
|
| Now his lids are heavy set.
|
| Run for it, they’re on the prowl
|
| These demons never make a sound.
|
| Cries ignored, this cardboard box,
|
| Will keep him dry for now.
|
| Why do I give in,
|
| When I know it’s not the only answer,
|
| Run away to save my skin,
|
| When my angst is growing like a cancer,
|
| And oh the things we’ll say,
|
| When we’re standing in our way,
|
| Maybe soon this all will be,
|
| A distant memory.
|
| There might as well be blood stains on this carpet floor
|
| He’s laying face down wondering what fighting back is for.
|
| Don’t even give 'em a chance to knock you down,
|
| Don’t even give 'em a chance to knock you down,
|
| And I’ll be singing' when I turn around,
|
| La la la la la la
|
| Why do I give in,
|
| When I know it’s not the only answer,
|
| Run away to save my skin,
|
| When my angst is growing like a cancer,
|
| And oh the things we’ll say,
|
| When we’re standing in our way,
|
| Maybe soon this all will be,
|
| A distant memory.
|
| Wars waged on life,
|
| We wave it in defeat
|
| Take down the white,
|
| Soldier on your feet,
|
| I march head strong,
|
| To shout aloud that «Now I’m Free»
|
| Why do I give in,
|
| When I know it’s not the only answer,
|
| Run away to save my skin,
|
| When my angst is growing like a cancer,
|
| And oh the things we’ll say,
|
| When we’re standing in our way,
|
| Maybe soon this all will be,
|
| A distant memory.
|
| Don’t even give 'em a chance to knock you down,
|
| Don’t even give 'em a chance to knock you down,
|
| And I’ll be singing' when I turn around. |