---

Knee deep and born into it,
You didn't ask for this and don't I know it?
A father's son,
We couldn't hope for less.
Pry these workds from my cold dead lips,
Home is where the heart is.

And the ghosts I draw
Will leave you cold.
A bankrupt father
To skin and bones.

I'm moving over;
I'm making room for you.
I'm making room.

I will occupy the space between
What you say and what you mean.
And you say
That the devil's in the detail.
And if that's true
When he is through with me he will
Sure as hell be after you.

And the ghosts I draw
Will leave you cold.
A bankrupt father
To skin and bones.

We escape, we escape, we escape
With our minds made up.
We escape, we escape, we escape
And our time is up.

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