Three Crosses

You walk unsafe on slippery ground,
No one's in sight for you to lend a helping hand.
You feel the looks, somebody counts,
The crowd is waiting for you loose your stand.

I've got fear for you, babe,
I've got fear.

Don't take the blade for the final cut.
Don't even think, it's better over.
Don't spread your arms for the flight in the night.
Babe, don't make three crosses.

Your tongue is slow, your voice is rough,
A loop around your breast is squeezing you.
You cannot scream, you've had enough,
All doors are closed, you've not been coming through.

Don't waste your life away,
There will be better days.
Don't follow whispering voices,
There's only mist upon your soul.

(c) 2000 muldensound, all rights reserved