He plays your already chosen songs
There is though, something uneasy
For you about him
A sully face, an optimistic smile
The darkness which she lightens
If it wasn't for her
There would not be enough of life left
He's ok, you think he's fine and why not
For all we know is the public persona
Stage managed
We are given what we already have
Or what we want to hear
Yet still he takes just too many steps
Ingratiatingly he goes too too far
Only a simple and ordinary man goes lightly
White washing blows outside on the line
Way too much goodness, even to understand
Fragile to walk across that derelict railway crossing
On and on, go on and on
Deep down into the tunnel where the colours drain
From your cheeks; you are still, pretence or real
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