Truth

I wrote a song about girls

And what they mean to me

Like a long winter

Interrupted with a day of spring

I don't like the way

That you think of me 

Though it's wild

I wrote a song about love

Though it's not right or fair

To think of one 

That better than the fair. 

It's not right 

To think of me that way

Though it's true. 

I can wait bitter for an afternoon

I stop the winter coming through my front room

I hear some saying about love and girls

Is it true?

I may be better when I'm seasoned on the streets

I'm no winner but I'm six feet deep. 

It's not right 

To think of me that way

Though it's true. 

There are 300 gardens 

maintained by ghosts in this town

They don't water or feed 

just sitting down

I will march through the city 

with no blatant truth

On my side. 

Tear down the frescos 

you feel that put you down

There's always a basterd girl

for an alabaster town

Do you always feel this way

Even though everything you know

Is a lie?

I can wait bitter for an afternoon

I stop the winter coming through my front room

I hear some saying about love and girls

Is it true?

I may be better when I'm seasoned on the streets

I'm no winner but I'm six feet deep. 

It's not right 

To think of me that way

Though it's true. 

Remember me