There’s an old man throwing [bad word] to the sparrows
Sitting on a bench beside the childrens playground
And he nods and he smiles as he hears the careless laughter
As I sit and watch the old man and the children
There’s a cold and lonely [bad word] through me
It is late in the day and the air is getting chilly
And it’s time to go home, soon the shadows will be falling
 
And I’ll spend another night
Waiting for the morning light
Like so many nights before, ’til his key is in the door
I’m amazed at all his words
Soaring like the flight of birds
But the message they can bring
Is the flutter of a wing
Making ripples in an ocean
Where the whales have ceased to sing
 
Down the slide [bad word]  my sisters youngest daughter
Giggles ringing in the air like clear blue water
And her hand is so warm and so confident and sandy
Lately I’ve a constant need to see them happy
Something breaks whenever one of them is crying
Looking back as we leave, I can see the bench is empty
But the sparrows remain and as ever keep on searching
 
And I’ll spend another night
Waiting for the morning light
Like so many nights before, ’til his key is in the door
I’m amazed at all his words
Soaring like the flight of birds
But the message they can bring
Is the flutter of a wing
Making ripples in an ocean
Where the whales have ceased to sing