Wednesday, April 27, 2005

Out of the top of my head...

Two men, an accountant and a baby

The truth of young love’s strangest dreams
The touch and tell of how it seems
These lives are blown to smithereens
And then fall back.

She snaked a pass to find dry land
She walked across some Northern sand
In the distance played Franz Ferdinand
And kicked a football.

I see you in my crashing sleep
Too numb to run, too slow to creep
The infant love you just can’t keep
Here’s to you alone.

Someday things all will be put to right
We’ll stand together, shoulder tight
The smiles will shine, not so contrite
Champagne will flow.

The lottery of life’s controls
The chances break these mortal souls
The lucky eight ball’s contents rolls
And turns up indecision.

I love the wise way you cause havoc
The stress and strain of family traffic
It’s having all or having none of it
To run the world your way.

Here comes the last change, for sure, maybe
I thought I’d experienced all, in my way
Two men, an accountant and a baby
I’ll earn your respect.

From this we’ll all earn some respect.

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