the tin soldier is broken
his paint worn off
where his face was, there is only a memory
trapped in a bump
i tell you, he is not me
but i am a liar.
i toss him in the trash
when you frown
the tin soldier is broken
his paint worn off
where his face was, there is only a memory
trapped in a bump
i tell you, he is not me
but i am a liar.
i toss him in the trash
when you frown