Little Colonel - Z Berg

Dear little devil, how’s tricks these days

I didn’t write, didn’t know what to say

Do you still sleep with the sun in your face

Sheets wet from fever, dreams force you awake

Dear little colonel, one foot in the grave

Fighting the war with an unsteady aim

Is that the goal, to create your crusade

With nothing for no one, so no one is saved

Or safe

You never really say you will

But never say you won’t

The world must be a funny place

When you can’t let go

You can’t ask for forgiveness if you think you must atone

For what you know

Dear little valentine, how is your nose

Keeping it clean, I sure doubt, but I hope

How is your head, mister, how are your toes

Do you still miss me when nights get too cold

You never really say you do

But never say you don’t

The world must be an awful place

When you can’t let go

You can’t see what you’re made of if you think you’re made of stone

And all alone

And every time you say you will

You prove to me you won’t

Your world is such a lovely place

Still, I can’t let go

I can’t see what you’re made of if you think you must atone

For what you know

And what you don’t