This Song Has No Title
Tune me in to the wild side of life
Im an innocent young child sharp as a knife
Take me to the garretts where the artists have died
Show me the courtrooms where the judges have lied
Let me drink deeply from the water and the wine
Light coloured candles in dark dreary mines
Look in the mirror and stare at myself
And wonder if thats really me on the shelf
And each day I learn just a little bit more
I dont know why but I do know what for
If were all going somewhere lets get there soon
Oh this songs got no title just words and a tune
Take me down alleys where the murders are done
In a vast high powered rocket to the core of the sun
Want to read books in the studies of men
Born on the breeze and die on the wind
If I was an artist who paints with his eyes
Id study my subject and silently cry
Cry for my darkness to come down on me
For confusion to carry on turning the wheel
