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Being a Mockingbird
Left to Lie
Only You
Two Years Old
The Borough Mill

Being a Mockingbird

The night it rests like a hammerblow and breaks the morning it brings,
The mad men are down on the crypt floor sleeping through there favours and sins,
I trained myself to be hardened and greet the bird like the day,
I soared to greet lusty gamblings and drenched myself in the dusk where they lay,

I exchanged the dark for the darkness and hung the belt from the wing,
So the traitors may part with there malice but ill remember everything,
I stood up and danced round the heckles and planted the leaf from the book,
I admit i love my romances the blackbird, the wren, the rook,

The church house wont harbour the coffins but the docks they wittle there ships,
To the pleasure the feast and the memory and the soar of kissing her lips,
I gave up myself to the dawning, of the morning bird in first flight,
I thought i ran the road of the pauper,

I lost it all in the night,
I lost it all in the night.

Left to Lie

I’m afraid to die
I’m nearly old
I’m almost young
Or so I’m told

You say time is a healer
Faith is death
Or left to die
I won’t put my strain on another
Broken shame
And so I’ll lie

I’m left to lie
I floated down
Like a long lost dream
As my savior flew
From his stitched up seams

Cause I’m afraid to die
I’m nearly old
I’m almost young
So I’m told

They say I would be better
Far from here
Left alone
But now my luck’s even cheaper
I’m played out by the traffic drones
I’m still alone
Nowhere to go

I floated down
Like a long lost dream
‘Cause my savior flew
From his stitched up seams
‘Cause my friends think I
Will be the first to die
‘Cause I’m far, far too scared
To ask them why
‘Cause I’m afraid to die

I’m nearly old
I’m almost young
Or so I’m told
Or so I’m told

Only You

The last time I saw my sister,
She was walking through a country street
With her golden hair and her tears
Running slowly down to her feet
And I’ve been knocked back again
And only you can understand
And I’ve gone through the door of many a men
But only you will take my hand
But only you will take my hand

And only you, yeah you picked me off the floor when I was better off dead
And only you, you brought the sodden towel to ease my worried head
And only you saved my soul from ending up in the slum

And last time I saw my brother
He had felt too many of lifes pains
I could see the trouble inside him
It came rushing out of him like rain
It came rushing out of him like rain

Said, only you, yeah you picked me off the floor when I’m better off dead
And only you brought the sodden towel to ease my worried head
And only you saved my soul from ending up in the slum
I said, only you saved my soul from ending up in the slum

But only you, yeah you picked me off the floor when I was better off dead
And only you brought the sodden towel to ease my worried head
And only you, yeah you brought me back from what I’d become
And only you, yeah you shared in the glory for what you have won
Said, only you saved my soul from ending up in the slum
Said, only you saved my soul from ending up in the slum

Two Years Old

I lost my english soul,
Pulling out the corpse,
Sheltering in the Trenches again,
crying for a lose,
I let my arms down,
walked away in a trance,
there’s parts of me layed out,
all over france,
so I took my last waltz,
Got caught up in the wire,
wrote a letter for my love,
as I head from the fire,
an old soilder carried me,
way to the coast, bathe my wounds in the sea,
im in the hands of a ghost, I’m in the hands of a ghost
their boats came on in,
I tried to run away,
I got taken half by the throat,
in the burning light of day
set down with the iron punch,
so broken and alone,
left my blood on the beach for the tide to take me home
these wounds that I shed inside,
two years old
so my girl she gave up,
she had taken me for dead,
she had forgot all her promises and everything she said,
living in the darkest dream,
I rose up in the cold
these wounds that I have outside,
are two years old,
these wounds that I have outside,
are two years old,
two years old
living in the past,
living by the mile I toke the same walk down,
as I did as a child,
the flags flew for a man,
unaware of the fate no one saw me walk down, on my very last parade,
so thoughts turn to dust,
as I headed for the mound,
I strayed up the part, waiting for the count,
living in the darkest dream so broken and all alone
these pain that I have inside is two years old
these scars that I have inside are more than two years old
these pain that I have inside is two years old
these scars that I have inside are more than two years old
is more than two years(x5)

The Borough Mill

Chained to a Wounded Gun again,

To rush the day and