There’s a portrait
In a back room,
Which I keep for days upon, which I relent
And gaze for hours on the muscle skin and bone of some
So how about it?
Show me please how I will look in twenty years
And let me please,
Interpret history in every line and scar that’s painted
There in front of me.
It doesn’t matter what I’m thinking
What I tell myself to do
I’ll end up calling.
I stay in to defrost the fridge
Now the kid has gone to bed
A feeling of dread.
At least when she’s around the troubles there,
It’s worse to wake up with her falling round the room.
Listen Johnny; you’re like a mother
To the girl you’ve fallen for,
And you’re still falling.
You’re like a mother to the girl you’ve fallen for,
And you’re still falling,
And if they come tonight
You’ll roll up tight and take whatever’s coming to you next.