warmth is the long lost lover 
of the lonely soul

the stranger sits with his worn sole 
he tips his hat even lower 
He sighs and groans 
for his aching heart never loans 
what he's wanted 
a little of what his mother had sown 

he closes his eyes 
and sigh escapes, 
he looks back 
at another time
another date 

back to when he was a little chap 
in the forest, where he was trapped 
around and around 
his little head...

Solace can be a pretty thing 

you could probably find it
under someone else's wing 

like with that friend you met 
on the train, the other day 
the one that never made you feel forced
to have something to say 

or maybe it was in 
that teddy bear you got
when you were three, 
the one that gave you light
when darkness was all you could see in your room
and all you heard was the unsettling quiet 

perhaps it...

Solace can be a pretty thing 

you could probably find it
under someone else's wing 

like with that friend you met 
on the train, the other day 
the one that never made you feel forced
to have something to say 

or maybe it was in 
that teddy bear you got
when you were three, 
the one that gave you light
when darkness was all you could see in your room
and all you heard was the unsettling quiet 

perhaps it...