the city in a hundred ways,
|
it wouldn't let you stay.
|
remember all the thankless days
|
and the lousy take home pay?
|
|
the photographs in black and white
|
that show you playing close to type -
|
your eyes against the midday light,
|
your eyes when they still had the fight.
|
|
they loved you
|
when you thought that no-one could.
|
they loved you
|
when you said that no-one should.
|
|
you talk so fast
|
to stop yourself from thinking.
|
you move so fast
|
so you'll never see you're sinking.
|
|
they love you
|
when you think that no-one can.
|
they love you
|
and they'll tell you that they understand.
|
|
they love you,
|
then they say you're much too,
|
much too bland.
|
|
spending days on the phone,
|
while the cold eats your bones.
|
|
how in the world do you make it right?
|
how in the world do you make a life?
|
|
-----------------
|
Photographs In Black And White
|
| No-Man |
