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We carried you in our arms |
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On Independence Day, |
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And now you'd throw us all aside |
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And put us on our way. |
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Oh what dear daughter 'neath the sun |
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Would treat a father so, |
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To wait upon him hand and foot |
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And always tell him, "No"? |
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Tears of rage, tears of grief, |
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Why must I always be the thief? |
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Come to me now, you know |
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We're so alone |
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And life is brief. |
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We pointed out the way to go |
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And scratched your name in sand, |
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Though you just thought it was nothing more |
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Than a place for you to stand. |
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Now, I want you to know that while we watched, |
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You discover there was no one true. |
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Most ev'rybody really thought |
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It was a childish thing to do. |
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Tears of rage, tears of grief, |
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Must I always be the thief? |
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Come to me now, you know |
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We're so low |
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And life is brief. |
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It was all very painless |
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When you went out to receive |
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All that false instruction |
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Which we never could believe. |
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And now the heart is filled with gold |
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As if it was a purse. |
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But, oh, what kind of love is this |
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Which goes from bad to worse? |
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Tears of rage, tears of grief, |
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Must I always be the thief? |
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Come to me now, you know |
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We're so low |
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And life is brief. |
