September 17th, for a girl i know it's mothers day.
the sun has gone and left, and that's were he will stay.
wind on the weather vein.
tearin' blue i sail them in.
as false staff sings a sorrowful refrain for a boy in fiddlers green.
his tiny knotted heart, well i guess it never worked too good.
a timber tore apart and the water gorged the wood.
you can hear her wispered prayer,
for men at mass that always lend.
the same when it moves ahead,
moves a boy through fiddlers green.
nothing changed away,
ah nothings changed anyway,
ah anytime today.
he doesn't know a soul,
and theres no-where that he's really been.
but he won't travel on alone,
no not in fiddlers green.
his lungs are filled with rain,
as childrens eyes turn sleepily.
as false staff sings a sorrowful refrain for a boy in fiddlers green.
