The light creeps in
Through the broken glass
In the sleeping ward.
Finnegan's voice
Is an endless whine
Through a hardboard barricade.
I throw a cigarette to make him quieten down.
And I search for that photo of you.
And your face is a symbol.
A place to remember.
Your face is a symbol for me now.
Radio blares.
There is not much time.
And the children play you up.
Buses and trains
On commuter lines
Through the condensation.
I know what you're doing now
And I follow you in your routine.
And your face is a symbol.
And your eyes make me strong again
I can look at the world full of confidence.
Writer(s): John Malcolm Watts
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