Tears have rolled down many good cheek
|
So when it comes down to your turn
|
Don¡¯t be afraid of admitting you¡¯re weak
|
Cause these are tears that you earn
|
|
Strangers, new neighbours, they¡¯ll both understand
|
Who hasn¡¯t been there? Hold up your hand
|
Strangers, neighbours, none of them planned
|
Tears are the wage of this land
|
|
When raindrop first fell to the ground
|
It seemed like the brightest idea
|
Even though teardrops were already around
|
No one yet linked them with tear
|
|
Raindrop you notice when stood under trees
|
Pin-drop you can hear if you're down on your knees
|
But if teardrop anyone sees
|
It¡¯s time, gentlemen please
|
|
Scars you know take longer to heal
|
Whilst tears you¡¯ll not see again
|
So which do we try so hard to conceal
|
The ones that make fools of us men
|
Bricklayer, teacher, firefighter or vet
|
One thing in common, the hankies they¡¯ve wet
|
But hidden away in the bedroom I bet
|
Tears in public, not yet
|
Drums have rolled for hundreds of years
|
Since we¡¯ve blown one another to bits
|
Generals and soldiers still holding their ears
|
Cause drumbeat and teardrop don¡¯t mix
|
|
When teardrops fall everyone in the band
|
Makes out their music¡¯s slipped from the stand
|
Leaving the singer, his head in his hands
|
Public emotion, be damned
|
|
Scars you know take longer to heal
|
Whilst tears you¡¯ll not see again
|
So which do we try so hard to conceal
|
The ones that make fools of us men
|
Bricklayer, teacher, firefighter or vet
|
One thing in common, the hankies they¡¯ve wet
|
But hidden away in the bedroom I bet
|
Tears in public, not yet
|
Not yet, not yet, not yet
|
Not yet
|
|
-----------------
|
Tears
|
The Beautiful South |