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This house that I live in has no reason |
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This house that I sleep in has no purpose |
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It has a bed and a few old chairs |
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Three flights up, two flights of stairs |
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But it has no reason |
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Then someone shot through the tyre swing |
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The dogs barked and bayed in the winter and spring |
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And the ivy that hung now sadly clings |
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To a dying season |
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And I cry at night when the lights go out |
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And the green eyes fuse and the full moon shouts |
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From road maps and red lines to lipstick lies |
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And when the lights go out it's tought to survive |
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This man holds a hand that shows a tremble |
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This man that I live in bears his faults |
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He has a heart and a well worn soul |
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Ten years a slave to Rock And Roll |
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But he has to tremble |
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For the yellow grass on the sun burnt lawn |
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Sleeps in her seeds from the sunset to dawn |
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And just like your love that's come and gone |
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It goes on breathing |
