Sitting on a broken dream
|
And memories are what might have been
|
Biscuit crumbs and bird seed in his
|
Whiskers (x3)
|
Even though he never went to war
|
He still felt something worth fighting for
|
But no one else ever cared as much as
|
Whiskers (x3)
|
Whiskers (x3)
|
He sits in the moonlight on top of the hill
|
Playing a penny whistle and picking thistles out of his kilt
|
He rubs his paws together and it begins to snow
|
As he counts up all the Christmas lights in the village down below
|
He sits around the campfire and licks at his wounds
|
Staring sadly back at his reflection in a spoon
|
We used to want the same things when we were growing up
|
But somewhere along the way I started hoping for too much
|
I found his little plastic shield
|
Chewed up on the battlefield
|
And I knew then I’d never make a friend again like
|
Whiskers (x3)
|
Whiskers (x3)
|
Whiskers (x3)
|
Whiskers (x3)
|
|
-----------------
|
Whiskers
|
| The Boy Least Likely To |
