LYRIC FOR SALE

By Adrian Mallinson

THE PAINTER’S CANNON POINTS AT THE SKY
I’M SUCKED RIGHT IN TO THE ROOM I SEE
BUT THE WALL’S NOT THERE AND THE CLOUDS DRIFT BY
THERE’S A SILENCE ABOUT TO BE BROKEN

I’VE GOT A FEELING STIRRING DEEP INSIDE
ON THE THRESHOLD OF LIBERTY

A TIGHTROPE WALK I COULD FALL EITHER WAY
TREMBLING LIKE A LEAF ON A THIN, THIN LINE
I COULD JUMP, I COULD RUN, I COULD EVEN FLY
THAT’S WHAT THE PICTURE’S TELLING ME

THIS IS NOT A CANNON AND THE SKY’S A LIE
BUT I WANT TO BELIEVE IT AND TAKE A CHANCE
GET SHOT OF ALL THOSE FAMILIAR THINGS
LIFT THAT ANCHOR THAT’S WEIGHING ME DOWN

I’VE GOT A FEELING STIRRING DEEP INSIDE
ON THE THRESHOLD OF LIBERTY

NO NEED FOR A THOUSAND WORDS OR MORE
THE PICTURE SPEAKS BUT MAKES NO SOUND
IT TAKES ME PLACES WORDS DON’T GO
IT STROKES MY SENSES OH SO SLOW, SO SLOW

THE PAINTER’S CANNON POINTS AT THE SKY
I’M SUCKED RIGHT IN TO THE ROOM I SEE
BUT THE WALL’S NOT THERE AND THE CLOUDS DRIFT BY
THERE’S A SILENCE ABOUT TO BE BROKEN

I’VE GOT A FEELING STIRRING DEEP INSIDE
ON THE THRESHOLD OF LIBERTY