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Clive Gregson

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Clive Gregson

Poor Relation

You wear the look ofa worried man,
With the weight of the world on your shoulder,
The last time I saw you, you couid barely stand,
Now you look twenty years older...

You always were the poor relation,
Fighting a battle with no hope of victory,
Scars on the outside, twenty feet deep,
And scars that no one can see...
Thank God you're not related te me.

You bear the mark of a dying breed,
The world could not hold one more like you,
If you weren't His image, and flesh of his seed,
Then God would just reach down and strike you...
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You always were the poor relation,
Humble beginnings, shrouded in mystery,
You bear a grudge as big as a house,
And a passion for anything free,
Than God you're not related to me...
You always were the poor relation,
Fighting a battte with no hope of victory,
Scars on the outside twenty feet deep,
And scars that no one can see,
Thank God you're not related to me...
Thank God you're not related to me...