My Broken HandWhen I tried to lend you my broken hand, You told me that I wouldn't, couldn't understand, So on yet another false errand, You sifted away, just as silently as sand.My Broken Hand
We've always been almost too honest to eachother, And we'd keep it that way till this old life was over, But if I told you of all the things, that I've done, I fear you would run, like the bullet from a gun.
That sudden moment when you couldn't take it anymore, You broke down, with your face to the floor, I called out when I saw a tear start to fall, But infront of all those people, I guess it didn't
LostI was lost, lost as a child, in a crowd of harsh, unfamiliar faces. I was battered, battered as a tramp, endlessly searching for forgiving places. I was scared, scared as a man, floating alone in the middle of the sea. I was warry, warry as a blind man, of the unknown, what I could not see. I was lonely, lonely as a star, drifting in deep deep space. That was untill I found you, you who put a smile on my face...... .......Thankyou.Lost
Hey, Cheer Up GirlHey, cheer up girl, your smile's been gone for far too long, Forget about the past, forget about the future, Tell me what you like to do, show me your favourite song, Let your hair down, really who cares what's right or wrong.Hey, Cheer Up Girl
I know what you've suffered, how many tears you've shead, I can see your scars, your bruises, so let me rest your weary head, Yes, I know how much you've been through, it's sick, So let's beat it with the sound of our laughter, that's the trick, Let yourself breathe, let go of your worries for a while, You can lean back on me, and I'll help you smile, Yo
The Battered BookI run my finger, gently against, Each one of the shelves smart books, Each one so neat and greatly preserved, But I don't care for their looks.The Battered Book
I notice one lonely book which has, Fallen back behind the front line, I bring it out of the dark shadows, And blow the dust from its spine.
I hold it's cover which is ripped and broken, In my hands which are fresh and raw, And as I switch on the bedside lamp, Light floods onto its ancient pages once more.
And maybe like someone else, long ago, In this book's mysterious history, I turn to the first
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