The candle flickers and the shadows move distorted on the wall. There's a wire slowly stretching. And now you ask him all the questions, the same ones as before.
I'm justlike a whisper on the breeze. Praying to the team oh don't say me. I'm just like a whistler on the tree. Praying to the breeze oh don't move me.
And though I stood on tenterhooks. I still took one last lingering look. And there was so much left unsaid. But as they say, you makes your bed. But as they say, you makes your bed.
Here I go around and around. Sick inside and eyes to the ground. Looking for a sign to set me free. In my chic cold misery. . Step we gaily, on we go.