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A Coming of Age
Lucky Soul
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Innocence fell at the first,
oh to be young and naรฏve.
Plans that were reckless at most,
picked them apart at the seams.
And my foolish pride said 'I was made to love you,
not to make up the numbers and wait'.
Where's the truth? Truth?
I thought a promise meant I would be honoured.
Call it a coming of age,
come too late.
Steadfast and surefooted once,
now I just cling to the floor.
Footprints still warm to the touch,
can't feel my toes anymore.
As you slept I leaped to hurried-up conclusions and ill-advised delusions of grace.
Where's the truth? Truth?
I thought with labour that luck was contagious.
Call it a coming of age, come too late.
Jealousy swallows you up,
sadness will follow you down.
Saccharine whispers of love
ain't no good to no one, no how.
And where fools rush in,
well I run hell for leather,
too late to make it better, too late.
That's the truth, truth.
I thought a friend meant someone to depend on.
Call it a coming of age, come too late.
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