Sitting in a study hall
Nothing to do at all
Picking at her fingernails.
Shining a penny she’s found in her trails
Feeding on a little chocolate bar
That she picked up that morning
Stringing together an old piece of yarn
And she’s knitting away.
Trying to tie up her life
Wanting to patch the wounds
Oh, God, by the stars and the Moon,
Give her a life that she deserves…
It's cold and freezing outside every day,
From September through May.
I suppose it makes no difference
If anyone seems to care at all.
‘Cause she’s still tying up her yesterdays.
She’s seen ‘em go, she’s seen em fall.
What terrible memories she lives with.
She’s loved ‘em short, she’s loved ‘em tall
The mountains climbed, and then she falls
And she’s gotta climb a waterfall
And she’s drowning in the flames
Sitting there in that plastic chair
Never comfy in this stale old air.
She needs to get away from here.
But to find such a place is rare.
Her big, kind heart just has no place for hate.
And with her around, I can’t concentrate.
She doesn’t know what to do.
And neither do I. Is it a crime?
To have no goal? The roads not taken
And the ones she’s taken.
Led her here, and as I shed a few tears.
I look back on my own years.
And can’t compare with the pain was in there.
Where can you put it all?
You can’t just throw it away.
But what can you do?
The only thing that conquers hate
Is to love…
Copyright (C) Richard Rowell 2002