My Parade

wait for time to turn or you calling my name again
same talk with the same loose friends about calling you
staying young in my mind, in the windows that reflect the sun
left on a moving perch, singing out loud

and now you’re far away, and nothing will ease the pain
now trouble is on my parade

cold on the bone, from a borrowed dress
and sunday morning’s once more, once less
my words on a page, and they’re ruined in ink

see now you’re far away, and nothing will ease the pain
now trouble is on my parade

and I still don’t know
what to say

copied from http://www.bobbylong.info/post/50350237258/wishbone-lyrics