Tin soldier, rises up
every night, every hour
he walks the parapet
while the people of the Kingdom
sleep their deepest slumber
in their antiquated beds
of remorse-less steel
He watches, and crouches
to scan the dark places
to discern the slight
of change
on the locks
that men forgot to close
tin soldier, he rises
to wind up the night
his pay, is but
bag of peanuts
which some say
is a joke
he`s broke
a secret toke
would ease his pain
but still, he will not
and certainly, cannot
cross that fine line
the 9 to 5
has become a dream
coffee without cream
but, someone has to do it
yep, some fool who has the will
to kill his own body, night after
lonely night
bereft of normal sight
traffic streams by
with souls that cannot sleep
oh, to be in those shoes
and, they in mine
then they would see
Tin soldier trembles to close
his lids on shadow
of endless night
that`s right.
