Time, it makes a fool of me.
Crime, the toll it takes...
Clean the mess
wounds undressed
Walk, the gloomy mornings out.
Talk, the greater good...
Sweep the floor
Peep through doors
The fallacious folly, of a tenacious trickster
Sit, among the morning blades
Fit, the unique mouldÂ
Cross, the street.
Hope we don't meet.
The fallacious folly, of a tenacious trickster
Lyrics and Music by John Berry