Home is the hand of a friend
On an arm pale and thin
Reaching out from the door
Where he welcomes you in
And you sit by the fire
Drinking coffee with pie
And some sandwiches perched
On a stack of old books
So you tell him your story
All the bad things you’ve done
Friendships lost, friendships won,
till the past wells up clear, like a tear in your eye.
But this man is your friend
He approves of your choice
He says yes yes yes yes to you
in his whispery voice.
LIfe is a climb up a hill
where the green grasses thrill
And so you climb the full height
To a peak so cold and white
And then you’ve got to come down
So you take a look around
But there’s no place to go.
They’ve forgotten you now.
So you munch your last sandwhich
through tears of self-recrimination
It’s your fault, you caused the whole situation.
Still the sky is your friend, he approves of your choice
He says yes yes yes to you in his cottony voice.
Sleep is a rose-colored dream
Filled with strawberry cream
As you cuddle inside
a bed of marshmallow white.
But there’s things you should do
Still its so hard to move
And the clock’s started pointing
It’s angry fingers at you.
And your certain that life
is waiting somewhere outside
Something big, something wide
Still you abandon it all
just to stay curled up tight
and so warm in a ball.
But your heart is your friend, he approves of your choice
He says yes yes yes to you in his pink & white voice.

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