Fingertips

I hear the streets here have all gone quiet Can’t fall asleep without the crackheads and sirens For the forest has left me, truly, abandoned Lampposts have replaced the trees of my old home If I went back there now it would no longer seem like my home town I wanna see it from my younger eyes Or the ones in the sky If I heard that satin voice you know I wouldn’t be the same old city boy I’d like to hear that voice again I’m afraid it’d let the voices in I guess I’m a forsaken son I no longer hear the voice from that holy one And I You know, I’ve really tried No better than the chosen ones I’m just deaf to the voice of your holy one And I You know, I’ve really tried I no longer miss the sandy blonde haired boy I’m not sure I could recall his face, even if I tried And I no longer hear the voice from up above Who spoke so strongly to me when I was young Maybe if I lit the candle, you could show me the way But the wax has melted down to my fingertips To my finger tips And maybe reading all the stories could help me see you But the pages are tattered and worn They're tattered and worn I guess I’m a forsaken son I no longer hear the voice from the holy one And I You know, I’ve really tried No better than the chosen ones I’m just deaf to the voice of the holy one And I You know, I’ve really tried