it's sunday morning
she gazes at his head
and wished he were dead
pick it up open your eyes
the bed is sinking
she notices it too late
laments there sorry state
a lonesome fate
birds fly by
kids outside
I promise we're fine
love will tow the line
I'll take it over
the ships are leaving port
and I'm waving from the shore
till I can't wave no more
someone is speaking
their voice is clear as day
but I don't know what they're saying
who cares anyway
birds fly by
kids outside
I promise we're fine
love will tow the line
please don't cry
I've saved what's mine
we're tired of trying
I can't tow the line
Built and maintained with love and respect by Andrew R. Jenkins.
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