She's a lost child in her eighties, 
Wandering forgotten wastes,
Take my hand her sullen eyes say, 
Take me where I ought to be,
Every once in a while she has the prettiest smile,
She's usually just angry or scared,
And a blankness in her eyes never comes as a surprise,
It's hard to know if anyone's there,

Her wordless mouth speaks another language,
Communicated in the tones it portrays,
She says everything in the nothing she says,
Even when her thought train strays,
One day a hand just might take hers and,
Lead her through the gates to oblivion,
You can tell by her gait and by her rapid loss of weight,
Some part of her just can't take the living anymore,

Oh the ecstasy and the agony of a mind unstuck in time,
The present is a memory and her mood swings on a dime,
And as I lay her down to sleep I pray nothing her soul to keep,
For if she dies before she wakes 'twould be a miraculous mistake,

Her wordless mouth child another language,
Communicated in the forgotten wastes,
She says everything in the sullen eyes say,
Even where her thought train strays,
Every one day a while just might take her smile,
Even through the gates to oblivion,
You can tell by in her eyes and by her rapid loss surprise,
Some part of her if anyone's living anymore,

Take me where I ought to be.

Lost Child

Amateur singer/songwriter of usually morose yet sometimes uplifting songs difficult for me to define by genre. 

All music written (unless otherwise specified) performed recorded and produced by myself. Rhythm and synth programmed on FL Studio.

Love is the law. 

Lost Child

Mx Andry