A guy on my shoulder lingers on
despite my efforts to control
this wandering mind of mine,
which often worries too much...too far.
I'd like to sing a song 'bout freedom
to be heard by a guy who sits alone,
waiting hopeless for some change
while rain keeps falling down
on empty streets
of some English town.
But then again, the little guy's
whispering lies and stealing hope;
makes me feel so clumsy
when I try to try and feelings seem to be
like a drowning boat at sea.
Mother Nature, tell me why
confusion and loss whish to dwell
in this old heart of mine
leaving scars that still remain
my wounds were healed...some time ago..
Hesitation might just be
what keeps words from running free and wild
And my own nature as it is,
which put these demons inside of me.