Innocence, it don't come easy - in a sense it never will
|
Accidents mean no one's guilty, ignorance means someone's killed
|
So I asked our Mr. Mellor how to get to where one's going
|
And he points to his survival, and he points me down the road
|
And I go on
|
Wondering if I've got a soul and
|
Counting down the hours 'til it goes
|
On a dark wet night in April, on a street in Jersey where
|
I went looking for some writing that I knew would not be there
|
And a punter from the Pelhams and the police, in the rain,
|
Were concerned more with a car than with the fact the light had changed
|
But after listening all morning, as I drove down 95
|
To a story of detainees who were barely kept alive
|
I could deal with trying to process pigeons acting like they're doves
|
But not with interference from the power lines above
|
As I go on
|
Wondering if I've got a soul and
|
Counting down the hours 'til it goes
|
And oh, precautions, yes precautions
|
But if you're playing with a gun, you could kill someone
|
And in the dark it's hard to know a friend
|
But I'm not angry, I won't be forever angry
|
As I'm walking toward tomorrow with a rifle in my hand
|
And I'm thinking about New England, and I'm missing Old Japan
|
And a mountain in California where a spring runs hot and cold
|
And if I told you I felt ageless, would you tell me I'm not old?
|
As I go on
|
Wondering if I've got a soul and
|
Counting down the hours 'till it goes
|
|
-----------------
|
Counting Down The Hours
|
| Ted Leo & The Pharmacists |
