Gothic 17 - Bill Bruford

Snow falling all around

And in the darkened house

The little boy daren’t make a sound

His parents whispering outside the door

He plans the day when they won’t be there anymore

They’re telling him this

They’re telling him that

You’ll never predict

The way that he might react

He’s lost in a maze

Of difficult days

He’s sinking too fast

He’s walking on broken glass

Speak softly to the child

For inbetween his head and racing heart

Lies something wild

No sense in shouting he can’t hear for the noise

He plays with fire, broken glass twisted tin, broken toys

They’re telling him this

They’re telling him that

You’ll never predict

The way that he might react

He’s lost in a maze

Of difficult days

He’s sinking too fast

He’s walking on broken glass