A Forestful Of Rogues

I read somewhere you pick up one end of a stick

And you also raise the other

And here I am between my son and my father

And they whisper "Well, who put him in charge"

All the secret's out, the tide clock here it has surely turned

The burn has bolted, the horse has folded

As a recorder of strange things

I can feed on familiarities

Here in my dwam, on the cusp of

On the edge of similarity

And the wisdom rolls

Never take a shortcut through a forestful of rogues

And forget those words, they were never sincere

How else did we end up round here

And I need them all

I need them all

I need them all

I need them all

Empty my pockets of loose change

That son of yours, tell me just what was his name

And who put you in charge

If I say so myself and I damn well do, I would rather it were you

I make a wish and it was still you

If I say so myself and I damn well do, I would rather it were you

I make a wish and it is still you

And I need them all

I need them all