Tired Eyes One cannot say that 'one is in the mood for melancholy' Yet one cannot deny her when she calls. I named my muse whilst I was young, She waits behind the cold blue eyes. As such, reserving all the coldness for myself, I'll grasp your pain and make it useful. Can a broken man repair another's pain? How so? Or yet, could there be any other task than To fix your hearts though mine is breaking? I am not, and never was, The best, the brightest or the bold, But I can heal another heart, Though I cannot touch my own. So come - place your hands in mine, And we'll walk to a calm world for tired eyes. I'll lift that tired, tired mind, And we'll warm your heart in the glow of the Sun.
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