I was walking home to my house through the snow from the station
|
When the Springsteen came clear in my headphones with a pertinent question
|
Oh is love really real and do any of hope for redemption
|
Or are we are merely biting our time down to the lonely conclusions
|
Darling let me take your hand as I talk you through this
|
How loneliness edged into deep seeded psychosis
|
Lying away in crowded hotel rooms focused on takers
|
With my feelings laid clear on the ceiling
|
I don't think I can do this
|
I don't think I can do this
|
|
Well I tried so hard to not turn into my father
|
But if I only ever skip out his choices will I ever choose better
|
Oh the sad truth is the grass it will always seem greener
|
So I left you alone in a restaurant in London in winter
|
You deserved better
|
|
Out of trash some might back in my ears
|
Sound comes clear and brings the awful truth that I can't stand what I've done to you
|
And it's written clear in my diary today should have been our anniversary
|
But I'm far way and I'm far apart
|
And you're back home with a broken heart
|
And loves is real and I can escape
|
I'll only ever have myself to blame
|
These failures shift and save me in the night
|
Like a fever I can't break try as I might
|
Wake me darling I need you take me home
|
But I know in the end redemption is mine and mine alone
|
So if each of us is made of a tally of mistakes and successes
|
Then the hour in the restaurant makes my score less than impressive
|
If each can be redeemed with the courage by which he confesses
|
So darling I miss you, your music and your musk and your kisses
|
I don't think I can do this
|
|
-----------------
|
Redemption
|
Frank Turner |