If the song's on the radio
Sound's are all to you
Get your hands off the jigsaw
Turn off the radio
Write about true
Life and love and
passion and soul
Black holds the doe
when the lull
of the dull of radio
Life and love and
passion and soul
Black holds the doe
when the lull
of the dull of radio
I'm her poet
Because the eyes in my head
Well they don't seem to see
what a poet sees
and I can not write poetry
And I've no stars
Because the marks on my head
will they never believe
But you don't need to be
To be down on your knees
Begging for the one you need
I need songs
to help me forget you
Help me to get through
into the things that I need to do
But the songs sounds so wrong
Make me want to long
Singing about things
that I don't belong to
The song's on the radio
Sound's are all to you
Get your hands off the jigsaw
Turn off the radio
Write about true
Life and love and
passion and soul
Black holds the doe
when the lull
of the dull of radio
Life and love and
passion and soul
Black holds the doe
when the lull
of the dull of radio

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