No-One Knows
I will try to paint a picture
Though the brush is old and brittle
Let the paint be broken stories
And the canvas be your mind
I cannot glorify
The actions of an angry man,
The man who beat his own
Left a paintbrush in my hand
I'm the son of the son of the son of a killer
The great all-knowing
Took away his children
The great all-knowing
Tried to take his wife
She fought to keep the we-know-best
From forcing him to hang
There was no weeping widow
And the church bells never rang
No-one knows just what he did
No-one knows just what he did
No-one knows just what he did
No-one knows
As circles turn
As this one did
Justice wasn't blind
They took everything that makes a man
His heart and soul ...as spoiled as it was
And stuck him in a brick wall cage
For broken minds
I'm the son
Of the son
Of the son
Of a killer
His son, my fathers father
Went to see him in this place
And I bet that he, as I
Would have wore a stronger face
"You're the man of the family now"
Oh wretched empty time
No-one knows just what he did
No-one knows just what he did
No-one knows just what he did
No-one knows
There's art in there somewhere
Art of killing time
I'm the son of the son of the son of a killer
My picture is done
Though the brush is old and brittle
Let the paint be broken stories
And the canvas be your mind
I cannot glorify
The actions of an angry man,
The man who beat his own
Left a paintbrush in my hand
I'm the son of the son of the son of a killer
The great all-knowing
Took away his children
The great all-knowing
Tried to take his wife
She fought to keep the we-know-best
From forcing him to hang
There was no weeping widow
And the church bells never rang
No-one knows just what he did
No-one knows just what he did
No-one knows just what he did
No-one knows
As circles turn
As this one did
Justice wasn't blind
They took everything that makes a man
His heart and soul ...as spoiled as it was
And stuck him in a brick wall cage
For broken minds
I'm the son
Of the son
Of the son
Of a killer
His son, my fathers father
Went to see him in this place
And I bet that he, as I
Would have wore a stronger face
"You're the man of the family now"
Oh wretched empty time
No-one knows just what he did
No-one knows just what he did
No-one knows just what he did
No-one knows
There's art in there somewhere
Art of killing time
I'm the son of the son of the son of a killer
My picture is done
Credits
Writer(s): Sean Watkins
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