Richard Thompson Crimescene
Broken glass, a broken chair
A lamp hangs by a thread
Scattered pages, spattered walls
Mayhem on the bed
Peace is gone and love is gone
And darkness wins the day
A soul is torn away
A soul is torn away
A crumpled shirt, a hank of hair
A shoe print made of blood
Phone ripped out, shades all drawn
A life is hammered shut
And I should ball my fists and scream
Against the dying of the dream
But I can't aim my rage at fate
Where's the face to pin the hate?
But I can't aim my rage at fate
Where's the face to pin the hate?
Where's the face to pin the hate?
A ticket booked, a suitcase packed
A diary on the desk
Free will's just a walk on part
In this ugly humoresque
Peace is gone and love is gone
And darkness wins the day
A soul is torn away
A soul is torn away
A soul is torn away
A soul is torn away
And I should ball my fists and scream
Against the dying of the dream
But I can't aim my rage at fate
Where's the face to pin the hate?
But I can't aim my rage at fate
But where's the face to pin the hate?
Here we stand around like victims
Waiting for the crime
Waiting for the butcher's knife
Just one cut at a time
You plan and he plans
You sleep while he steals
Your wheels can only spin
Inside of other wheels
Peace is gone and love is gone
And darkness wins the day
A soul is torn away
A soul is torn away
A soul is torn away
A soul is torn away
A soul is torn away
