Kelly

I sing the joy of praise, see the creep of moon, new horizons not always great, I say I have to go, like I play the fool, laugh like a bag of stones, not content with any place, or single line of truth, it’s for me the going rate, you want to plough alone, not enough to ground you, no one still at home, but roads are never straight, even when they’re new, trouble's still to rake, we won’t come to blows, take me if you want to, but not as a loan, since you've been away, we’ll try to find some glue, each night pray, we won't sing the blues.