Is it the shadow in my voice?
oh, i can barely form a sigh
is it the music that i make?
is it the sadness in my eyes?
you put me in position
as it tells you in the book
but i'm a separate chapter
you cannot look it up
my mother had a crying boy
hung up over the fire
i could not bear to see him
i would not meet his eye
i think that's why i'm like this
the tears they never cease
and yet you never see them
i keep them all in me
i have broken into france
i have stolen into spain
i've been thrown out of italy
and i'll be thrown out again
the dutch never liked me much
and germany the same
i poisoned half the western world
but it never bought me fame

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