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ILiKETRAiNS
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A Father's Son
Knee deep and born into it,
You didn't ask for this and don't I know it?
A father's son,
We couldn't hope for less.
Pry these workds from my cold dead lips,
Home is where the heart is.
And the ghosts I draw
Will leave you cold.
A bankrupt father
To skin and bones.
I'm moving over;
I'm making room for you.
I'm making room.
I will occupy the space between
What you say and what you mean.
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And you say
That the devil's in the detail.
And if that's true
When he is through with me he will
Sure as hell be after you.
And the ghosts I draw
Will leave you cold.
A bankrupt father
To skin and bones.
We escape, we escape, we escape
With our minds made up.
We escape, we escape, we escape
And our time is up.
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