(Sandy Denny)
Silver tongues are speaking long and hard into the night
I must be myself and I'll do alright
Oh, please my darling, do not make me sad
Late at night nobody really wants to feel that bad
The rain it beats impatiently upon the window pane
I must close my ears or I'll go insane
Can't you be a gentle breeze or silent as a snowfall
Won't you try and listen for the voice behind the wall
It cries to you
chorus:
Even though it only ever whispers part of what it knows
And it's never ventured through the locks
Where the brazen river flows
It's the fingerprint which is never made
It's the perfume of a rose
And it is there if you are searching
But the moment must be right
As the night is black, as the day is white
Please my friend, help to make me glad
Help me find the one and only thing I've never had
What is true
chorusthere's a spectre in the corner of an illustrated page
and a lonesome muted stripling with a rapt remedial gaze
the poverty of his language and the wealth of his emotion
bring him endless murky musings and unexpected frustration
angst and madness weave the fabric of his life
tomorrow might be better
but right now it feels like
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there's a panther wild and proud
behind the doors of a redolent cage
and an undeveloped intellect
filled with impotent and static rage
and don't think you're exempt
if you earn a good weekly wage
'cause your neighbor's going crazy
and insanity's contagious!
I know there's so much you want to say
but your tongue gets in the way
and sometimes it feels like
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I know there's so much you want to say
and the tumbrel of your mind gets in the way
it's the same for everybody to degrees
we all get that foggy freeze
and sometimes it feels like
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