When the small ugly town you were raised in
takes on the faces of strangers
And the houses you played at as children,
are as empty as savior-less mangers
And your friends are as scarce now as angels
and the only thing that makes this place home
is your family name on the gravestones
When the churches you prayed in are empty
and the schools where you studied are fenced in
And the parents that raised you are buried
and all of your old friends are married
And no one comes around anymore
and you sit up alone in your cluttered room
When you pass by the shops and hear laughter,
and they come to the doors as you pass them
whispering "he is the one that's forbidden,
we told him to go still he comes here
and you know he's no business in town,
because trouble just follows him all around"
When the ones that shake hands when you see them
scoff at your back as you're leaving
and they say "Man he thinks he's so clever,
mister poet or prophet... whatever.
If he's intuitive then why can't he see,
that we wish that he'd just stay so far away"
When the girl that you told all your fears to,
that stood up when they spoke out against you
the same girl that you comforted crying,
goes off sleeping with strangers and lying
When you ask her then she starts denying
and she says she'd do better alone
now it's just like she never even knew you at all.
When the small ugly town you were raised in
takes on the faces of strangers
And the houses you played at as children,
are as empty as savior-less mangers
And your friends are as scarce now as angels
and the only thing that makes this place home
is your family name on the gravestones.
A true hidden treasure of a song writer. This gent has been capturing songs in demo form on old tape recorders since the 80s. . . and he's still capturing his magic sounds in his secret basement. Damien Youth