Well, you told me you were sorry, when I needed your advice And I was too confused to see the meaning Like peter, you disowned me with a voice as cold as ice And before the fire died and they were leaving
I'm a means to an end and everybody's friend To a richman, poorman, beggar man or thief From my heart I send a messenger to bend And take your mind from agony and grief
Oh, sweet silence without kings and queens No one here has ever reached your centre Better to be quiet than to speak without a thought Or you may lose the meaning of your venture
Printer Friendly Version