Old ballet shoes tossed in the corner.
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I put my cigarette out on the floor.
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Same old broken down face in the mirror,
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and fist sized hole in the door.
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If only I could see past myself
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these ankles keep twisting in vain
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and the older I get the more things
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I let be to blame.
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Same old God, same old prayer.
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I keep repeating myself but I'm not getting anywhere.
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There's that old letter you wrote me.
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You said you wanted to be a star.
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Same old broken down car in the driveway,
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I guess we didn't get too far.
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If only I could see past myself,
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these keys they keep turning in vain,
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and the older I get the more things I let be to blame.
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Same old God, same old prayer.
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I keep repeating myself but I'm not getting anywhere.
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If only I Keep talking to that same old God.
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-----------------
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If Only
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| Tara MacLean |
