You slam another door
And scramble for the nearest shore
Another creek without an oar
A small expense for pride
A bridge is burning to save face
A thousand others laid to waste
All leading to a lonely place
With nowhere left to hide
And every outstretched helping hand
Is cut off at the wrist
Effective demonstration
But the point is clearly missed
Aint it sad when you’re the Last To Know.
We are all on equal ground
A thousand friends you’ve not yet found
They wait for you to turn around
Cause love is all you need
The world is filled with lonely souls
A thousand dreams - a thousand goals
A fragile master plan unfolds
When two or more agree
But every outstretched helping hand
Is cut off at the wrist
Effective demonstration
But the point is clearly missed
Aint it sad when you’re the Last To Know.
Copyright © 1994 by Karl Konrad Werne