Son of A

The more i while away your loss The less I get my point across Depending on whose point of view The side of my brain You choose to listen too Nothing new here I have not reinvented the wheel I would not be granted a fresh appeal The evidence has not changed I was not framed I have simply exhausted my claim The Pet Shop Boy's are still at No 1 And I am still a Bum Who stinks of soaked depressed Rum For failure to overcome The poignant fact of skipping lessons I am what is to a fence That barbed wire's scare When Mother's care Left trolls to hang out to dry On the totempoles Like crucifixes So that other's Fear to tread Because nothing ever good comes from Feeling sorry for Or acting out What life has taken from Rather choose to rise above Or take the high road Because nothing ever good comes from Looking back even when the light is ahead For Love is a better bed To place a weary head upon When all is said And all is done Goodbye Godless Son