We, the Undersigned

I never quite told you
That you never raised me wrong
That it's not your fault
I'm a lacklustre son

The hounds of hell may play their part
In my reserve
But that is no excuse for
Withholding what you deserve

Though I'm quite certain
What your reaction will be
All the same there remains
That stiff upper lip in me

The hounds of hell may play their part
In my reserve
But we the undersigned do swear
Our silent love is there



Credits
Writer(s): Calum Pratt
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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