Little Boy Down By The Water
Posted: Sun Jul 10, 2011 8:47 am
Little Boy Down By The Water
© Stephen Whiteside 10.07.2011
There are things that I do for the money.
There are things that I do for love.
There are things that I do
Only for you,
And things for the Lord up above.
One day I will build me a vessel
To carry me off to the stars.
I will blissfully wait
By the Tannhauser Gate,
And the star-light will temper my scars.
There’s a little boy down by the water,
Who knows he has done nothing wrong,
Yet he’s glued to the spot
With his guts in a knot.
It’s for him I am writing this song.
For the world is both harsh and capricious,
And justice a rarely dug gem,
And a word kindly spoke
Can the Jabberwock choke,
And a river of cruelty stem.
Will you send me a present of flowers?
A bouquet? A pot full of dirt?
With colours so bright
That all through the night
They’ll wash away some of the hurt?
I’m only a poor simple peasant.
I scarcely have shoes for my feet.
I rescue old fags.
I dress in thin rags.
I scrounge for the morsels I eat.
Well, this is the view from my cliff-top.
The world sees a different show -
A shiny belt buckle,
A soft city knuckle,
Words in a civilised flow.
We all wear a myriad faces,
And who can say which one is true?
But give me your hands,
For this moment stands
Unique between just me and you.
I’ll sit at the helm of my vessel,
Though Judgement, it never may come.
I will happily wait
By the Tannhauser Gate,
And I will not call out for my mum.
There are things that I do for the money.
There are things that I do for love.
There are things that I do
Only for you,
And things for the Lord up above.
© Stephen Whiteside 10.07.2011
There are things that I do for the money.
There are things that I do for love.
There are things that I do
Only for you,
And things for the Lord up above.
One day I will build me a vessel
To carry me off to the stars.
I will blissfully wait
By the Tannhauser Gate,
And the star-light will temper my scars.
There’s a little boy down by the water,
Who knows he has done nothing wrong,
Yet he’s glued to the spot
With his guts in a knot.
It’s for him I am writing this song.
For the world is both harsh and capricious,
And justice a rarely dug gem,
And a word kindly spoke
Can the Jabberwock choke,
And a river of cruelty stem.
Will you send me a present of flowers?
A bouquet? A pot full of dirt?
With colours so bright
That all through the night
They’ll wash away some of the hurt?
I’m only a poor simple peasant.
I scarcely have shoes for my feet.
I rescue old fags.
I dress in thin rags.
I scrounge for the morsels I eat.
Well, this is the view from my cliff-top.
The world sees a different show -
A shiny belt buckle,
A soft city knuckle,
Words in a civilised flow.
We all wear a myriad faces,
And who can say which one is true?
But give me your hands,
For this moment stands
Unique between just me and you.
I’ll sit at the helm of my vessel,
Though Judgement, it never may come.
I will happily wait
By the Tannhauser Gate,
And I will not call out for my mum.
There are things that I do for the money.
There are things that I do for love.
There are things that I do
Only for you,
And things for the Lord up above.