Show Of Hands Don't Look Now
I hear the knocking of a clock
Look through the pages of my book
And realise I havent read one word there
Beneath the hills the sun has died
The day grows dark I rest inside
My room of ancient sleepless death
'Til I hear it
The cry that wakes me every ngiht
That numbs my ears and stops my sight
Dries the tears behind my eyes
A child cries
You watched me fade as you grew old
My dreams are ash and the fires are cold
Buried under the passing years
With all my hopes and all my fears
For a man has grow but the boy is dead
Who taps the window and shakes the bed
And clings so tightly round my neck
Reminding
I hear the knocking of a clock
