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Drink to our demolished home |
|
Wher loss resides alone |
|
Like a widow by the radio |
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Child, childhood is a place |
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Where sorrow comes of age |
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A widow by the radio |
|
Try to understand |
|
I couldn't hold your hand |
|
I couldn't even hold a gun |
|
Surely we could find |
|
A reason or a sign |
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That everything's not gone for good |
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Autumn whispers through the trees |
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Cheap things to her and me |
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But patience wears a uniform |
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Nature take care of your sons |
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I think they have become |
|
The Darlings of the universe |
|
Try to understand |
|
I couldn't hold your hand |
|
I couldn't even hold a gun |
|
Surely we could hide |
|
A reason or a sigh |
|
That everything is gone for good. |
