Truth

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Sunday Postman

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The truth is I'm scared of the wind
The winds of change send shivers down my spine
From my neck, to my legs and toes
I tighten as it blows, oh the truth can be found...
In silence, behind closed doors, buried in the ground
And strangely, right in front of me
In front of my face the whole time

The truth is, truth rarely fits into a rhyme scheme
The unclaimed glory of the stanza is not a stance
It's the truth, best that I can tell!
Nothing more, nothing less, right in front of my face
In front of yours
We must face

From my neck, to my legs and toes
From mouth to ears and nose
The truth is the wind and cannot be forced
I shiver as it blows my house of cards to the ground
The truth is I'm still a scared little boy
Sure I've grown, only to know that as truth

Da da dun da da
Da da dun da da (Aaah)

In front of my face, in front of yours
We must face, what's behind closed doors

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