Boy Least Likely To Whiskers
Sitting on a broken dream And memories are what might have been Biscuit crumbs and bird seed in his Whiskers (x3) Even though he never went to war He still felt something worth fighting for But no one else ever cared as much as Whiskers (x3) Whiskers (x3) He sits in the moonlight on top of the hill Playing a penny whistle and picking thistles out of his kilt He rubs his paws together and it begins to snow As he counts up all the Christmas lights in the village down below He sits around the campfire and licks at his wounds Staring sadly back at his reflection in a spoon We used to want the same things when we were growing up But somewhere along the way I started hoping for too much I found his little plastic shield Chewed up on the battlefield And I knew then I'd never make a friend again like Whiskers (x3) Whiskers (x3) Whiskers (x3) Whiskers (x3)
