september 17th, for a girl i know it's mothers day. the sun has gone and left, and that's were he will stay. wind on the weather vein. tearin' blue i sail them in. as false staff sings a sorrowful refrain for a boy in fiddlers green.
his tiny knotted heart, well i guess it never worked too good. a timber tore apart and the water gorged the wood. you can hear her wispered prayer, for men at mass that always lend. the same when it moves ahead, moves a boy through fiddlers green.
nothing changed away, ah nothings changed anyway, ah anytime today.
he doesn't know a soul, and theres no-where that he's really been. but he won't travel on alone, no not in fiddlers green. his lungs are filled with rain, as childrens eyes turn sleepily.as false staff sings a sorrowful refrain for a boy in fiddlers green.
|