Andrew Wiscombe - White Mâché

Came home soiled from a dirty war
Thought I knew just what I fought it for
Big brass bands, apple pie
All the reasons seemed so cut and dry
Overseas a million miles away
Through a million dusty hard fought days
Bombed out towns, smoky skies
Unshed tears have got me wondering why

They say the eyes are windows to the soul
Please don't look to closely, there's nothing left to show
I hang around where I once played, trying to fake it through the day
Never really worked out anyway
Cause it takes a fool to fall for roses made with white mache
Oh it takes a fool to fall for roses made with white mache

I've tried every job in this whole town
My achin' mind refused to settle down
Uncle Sam taught lethal skills
Odds and ends now help to pay the bills
Left home feeling' more than ten feet tall
Quite a long hard way for one to fall
Pride it a hand grenade
Spangled banner dulled into a grey

They say this place I live is called a home
But it feels for like a prison, feels so numb it feels so cold
They tell me I'm a special one, to serve my country with a gun
So why do I still fell the need to run
No I ain't a fool to fall for roses made with white mache
No I ain't a fool to fall for roses made with white mache

They say that God forgives the man who tries
But they've never been to Baghdad
Never heard those mothers' cries
And when I lay me down to sleep
Will He take my soul to keep
Or will He cast me out into the deep
Cause He ain't a fool to fall for roses made with white mache
No he ain't a fool to fall for roses made with white mache

Written by:
Andrew Wiscombe

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid, Songtrust Ave

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