You fold his hands and smooth his tie, you gently lift his chin.
Were you really so blind, and unkind to him?
Can't help the itch to touch, to kiss, to hold him once again.
Now to close his eyes--never open them....
A shadow passed, a shadow passed, yearning, yearning
For the fool it called a home.
All things he never did are left behind.
All the things his mama wished he'd bear in mind,
And all his dad had hoped he'd know.
The talks you never had, the saturdays you never spent.
All the 'grown-up' places you never went.
And all of the crying you wouldn't understand.
You just let him cry, 'make a man out of him.'
A shadow passed, a shadow passed, yearning, yearning
For a fool it called a home.
All things he ever wished are left behind.
All the things his mama did to make him mind,
And how his dad had hoped he'd grow.
All things he ever lived are left behind.
All the fears that ever flickered through his mind.
All the sadness that he'd come to own.
A shadow passed, a shadow passed, yearning, yearning
For the fool it called a home.
And it whistles through the ghosts still left behind.
It whistles through the ghosts still left behind.
Whistles through the ghosts still left behind.
My Junk
Autor: Spring Awakening
Album: