A little truth(?)
 

I tried to find a tender start
Of a story yet to begin
And there’s the drum
padda bum

We leave places all the time
Some stop to look behind
But I just carry my face straight ahead
All the pages I’ve written before
I try to forget and start again

Every other page is yet another beginning
Looking at my face I see it’s painted on
Now I have to paint it over
every other morning
to loose the grim of yesterday

I used to bear seeing my face
In de morning as I awoke
Now there’s the sting
pinga ping