| I’m bringing out my best impression
|
| Of seven-year-old me in confession
|
| It’s never more appropriate than now
|
| An open book, I’ll open up if you do
|
| Nothing to hide and very little to lose
|
| It feels to me like things are on the change
|
| I’m trying to be a better man, whatever that is
|
| It’s slightly disconcerting
|
| No direction, no set plan
|
| I’m trying to be a better man, whatever that is
|
| Nobody’s perfect
|
| Nobody’s perfect
|
| Go on, give us a hand
|
| Give us a hand
|
| Another day, another gratitude list
|
| Remembering the Amazon, November, when we kissed
|
| Pages filled with rhymes and better times
|
| Finding a lover and losing them to fate
|
| Finding another, thank your lucky stars, mate
|
| You do not know how lucky you are
|
| I’m trying to be a better man, whatever that is
|
| It’s slightly disconcerting
|
| No direction, no set plan
|
| I’m trying to be a better man, whatever that is
|
| Nobody’s perfect
|
| Nobody’s perfect
|
| Go on, give us a hand
|
| Give us a hand
|
| A helping hand
|
| To understand
|
| That I need to breathe
|
| It’s time to leave
|
| This wonderland
|
| Of wedding bands
|
| And everyone in-between
|
| I’m trying to be a better man, whatever that is
|
| It’s slightly disconcerting
|
| No direction, no set plan
|
| I’m trying to be a better man, whatever that is
|
| Nobody’s perfect
|
| Nobody’s perfect
|
| Go on, give us a hand
|
| Give us a hand |