Hand Hold High

[Frank]: Traffic stops, clocks pause, great crowds fall silent, the tv multitude lean a little closer to the screen

And then...exhale, relax, it's over

Gentle eyelids softly close. At least the muscles in my neck are finally softening again

Sofa's, parks and riverbanks, all glow with a little heat - the fading traces of a pssion passing through

Novels, necklaces, kitsch cups, a photo of you at the station... these things I clutch at and keep them close to my heart

With these memories like cool wind on my back I grit my teeth and move on

The last notes of parisian autumn pianos float into corners of empty concert halls, and the air is sweet

I only ever wanted you to feel my hands firm on your shoulderblades and you fell back and I caught you

But somehow you kept on falling the other way

A sad smile, a squeeze of my arm, and you drift away

Whatever happened to afternoons of glory wasted gently in the sun?

I'm sorry I can't justify and words are not enough, so try and understand as we stretch our hands...

Hands held high, these innocent hands held high above our heads

But I can never be happy knowing you are sad