Games

Look at you You're the son of the neighborhood strays You can walk in your prison for days But you'll never get anywhere It's a pain But the shine on the edge of your blade Couldn't give all the waiting away You were recognized everywhere Turn away You are not just ashamed of yourself You're a part of the scenery,damned to hell Can't you see We are not going to play at your games We are not going to ask you for names Or for some of your history Did you know That your father said it's all wrong Just to keep it going along It's a part of our mystery It's our job, you see You'll agree There is no point in letting you go We can wait till the end of the show Till the audience fades away Turn around You can laugh at the mess in your room It's a nightmare that never can end for you Can't you see We are not going to play at your games We are not going to ask you for names Or for part of your history Did you know That your father said it's all wrong Just to keep it going along It's a part of our mystery It's our job you see You'll agree There is no point in letting you go We can wait till the end of the show Till the audience fades away Turn around You can laugh at the mess in your room It's a nightmare that never can end for you Can't you see We are not going to play at your games We are not going to ask you for names Or for part of your history Did you know That your father said it's all wrong Just to keep it going along It's a part of our mystery (written by Nazareth) Copyright 1982 Fool Circle Music Limited All rights reserved Reproduction prohibited