written by Daddy ©2007
Found on Leaving the past behind

Hey you, that are running on my road
You seem tired just like me but I’m steering far from home
It’s time to leave it’s time to reach my goal
It’s time to write the story of a man left on his own

Nothing left in his pockets but his anger
He sold his soul to God for an old Fender
Laughing, crying, playing, singing
Walking, running, trying dreaming

And now that all my dreams are up
I sell my heart for money
But if I’ll fall I won’t give up

Seeking for a feeling
And the words that could repeat it

Seeking a refrain could make the people singing
Na, na,na...

Young singer, old singer
With callus on your picking fingers
You just cannot listen
To mermaids and all of thier whispering

I’m gazing all the young old pupils of my past
The buried ghost of youth seems just to be right back
Rumours seem to reborn room seems to be load
It’s time to wear the dress that it’s covered up with dust

I’m reading the book of the memories of my eyes
But nothing seems to be there, slippery tonight
Same old faces, same old voices
Same old dreams and no more choices

And now that all my dreams are up...

Sitting on a chair in the middle of my head
Looking all around me, nobody just round here
Shadows dancing, eyes are winking
Blind men staring, deafs are listening

Trying to keep the pace to the door out of this place
Carrying up a glass from my fingers to my face
This is not a rebel song
This is just a cradle song

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