The Dance Hall Years
Every gun like italian wine
Is numbered and named.
Every child with his cup of rain
Is caught in his dream to be. . . . oh misery.
Need for freedom drives a woman wild
Imagines what's hers.
Selling water by the riverside
A story we've yet to learn. . . . . . . .so we burn.
Closer to heaven than ever before
Painting the walls we paint over the door. .
How strong are we meant to be, how far can we fall ?
How long can we live with the tears
Of the dance hall years
Too much love drives a man insane
He'll murder for words.
Out of touch with his resting place
And scared he might lose his turn. . .he burns.
Rolling the dice with a six in the glove
Who needs a new definition of love?
How long can this go on, how real is real,
how wrong are the faithful to feel?
How strong are we meant to be, how far can we fall
How long can we live with the tears. . . of the dance hall years?