The Runaway Show
…A creative ‘genius’!…maverick magazine
‘Jimmy Lee’s songs and life story come together in a show, with Jimmy, his guitar, wonderful songs and narrative linked to projected images that give you a personal insight into one of the most incredible life stories you are ever likely to hear….’There are great stories told in lyrics woven in beautiful melodies.
‘Emotional and uplifting this highly entertaining show will transport you into his extraordinary world full of incredible twists and turns…’
Don’t miss this One !
Absolutely BRILLIANT!...... One of our best shows EVER!.... unusual, uplifting and highly entertaining!
I can honestly say it is a true ‘masterpiece’ suited to large or small venues. Great stories, projected images and wonderful music.
Featuring songs from The Ragamuffin & The Runaway
| Sample | Title | Songograhy |
|---|---|---|
| Listen to Written in the Sand on SoundCloud | Written in the Sand | Songography |
| Listen to The Burma Star on SoundCloud | The Burma Star | Songography |
| Listen to The Days Of Eighty Eight on SoundCloud | The Days Of Eighty Eight | Songography |
| Listen to Lucy Cartwright on SoundCloud | Lucy Cartwright | Songography |
| Listen to No Flowers for Geordie on SoundCloud | No Flowers for Geordie | Songography |
| Listen to Escanaba on SoundCloud | Escanaba | Songography |
| Listen to Eileen on SoundCloud | Eileen | Songography |
| Listen to The Granuaile on SoundCloud | The Granuaile | Songography |
| Listen to Hard man on SoundCloud | Hard man | Songography |
| Listen to Absolution on SoundCloud | Absolution | Songography |
Written in the Sand
IF YOU SHOULD ASK ME WHERE I'M GOIN TO, I COULD TELL YOU WHERE I'VE BEEN
IF YOU SHOULD ASK WHAT I'VE BEEN WITNESS TO I COULD TELL YOU TELL YOU WHAT I'VE SEEN
FOR AFTER ALL IS SAID AND DONE WE'RE TAKEN BY THE HAND
AND AFTER ALL WHAT WE BECOME HAS BEEN WRITTEN IN THE SAND
A CLIMBING ROSE LEARNS AS IT GROWS TO HANG ON NATURALLY
THE THORN STAYS ON WHEN THE BLOSSOMS GONE THAT'S HOW IT'S MEANT TO BE
AND THE YEARS HAVE SHOWN A KINDNESS, NOW I THINK I UNDERSTAND
THAT A CLIMBING ROSE LEARNS AS IT GROWS WHATS WRITTEN IN THE SAND
YOU DON'T SUPPOSE A CLIMBING ROSE COMMITS TO MEMORY
THE THORN, THE BLOSSOM, HOLDING ON, WELL IT'S THE SAME FOR YOU AND ME
AND YOU MAY NOT HEAR THE MUSIC PLAYED NOR SEE THE MARCHING BAND
BUT YOU WILL COME TO KNOW, FOR SURE, WHATS BEEN WRITTEN IN THE SAND
SO WITH EACH EVENTUALITY, AS YOUR FOOTSTEPS RISE AND FALL
THERE'S A FAIR DEGREE OF CERTAINTY, YOU'VE ONLY ANSWERED TO A CALL
AND WHEN THE DAY OF JUDGMENT COMES AND YOU'R CALLED TO TAKE THE STAND
YOU CAN SWEAR ON THE HOLY BIBLE THAT, IT WAS WRITTEN IN THE SAND
YOU WON'T BELIEVE WHERE I WAS GOIN, YOU WON'T BELIEVE WHERE I HAVE BEEN
YOU WON'T BELIEVE WHAT I'VE BEEN WITNESS TO YOU WON'T BELIEVE WHAT I HAVE SEEN
THE FATHER, SON AND THE HOLY GHOST TOOK ME IN AND HELD MY HAND
THEY SMILED AT ME AND THEY LET ME SEE, WHAT WAS WRITTEN IN THE SAND
SO WHEN NOTHING STANDS BEFORE YOU NOW AND NOTHING'S WHAT IT SEEMS
DON'T DISPAIR THERE'S SOMONE THERE SO HOLD ON TO YOUR DREAMS
LET THE DOVE OF PEACE THAT'S IN YOUR HEART, SMITE THE SWORD IN YOUR RIGHT HAND
AND USE YOUR WILL TO LOVE NOT KILL WHATS BEEN WRITTEN IN THE SAND
NOW YOU KNOW WHERE I WAS GOING TO, NOW YOU KNOW WHERE I HAVE BEEN
AND YOU KNOW WHAT I'VE BEEN WITNESS TO AND YOU KNOW WHAT I HAVE SEEN
THE DOVE OF PEACE BEATS IN MY HEART MY SWORD SLEEPS IN MY HAND
'COS THE CLIMBING ROSE AND I BELIEVE WHATS BEEN WRITTEN IN THE SAND
Written in the Sand
Sometimes songs come from nowhere…… or do they sometimes come with age! ?... I love the meaningful lyrics and the melody…and we all have to fight the good fight !.....the whole song was written in just a few minutes….
The Burma Star
Do I remember Seaford, just a toddler at the time
Men who left or came to save us far from home and in there prime
Barbed wire on the beaches the bombs and the aeroplanes
Bright blue sky’s and ‘dog fights’ soldiers marching down the lanes
From Vale road down to East street past the school and the old sea wall
The powdered milk the ration books I can recall them all
Long empty years of loneliness turned my Mothers heart to stone
Forgot she had a Soldier, is he ever coming home?
We played together freely, John, Billy, Anne and me
Played soldiers on the South Downs sometimes paddled in the sea
And I never felt neglected, no I never felt alone
Never knew what fear or hate was until it came into my home
In silent desperation and unimaginable pain
She took the cause of indignation from the cradle to a train
He was found by the Church of England fast asleep and all alone
They granted him salvation but he’s never coming home
Then my world stood still and silence came to my prison without bars
Long days that held no sunshine, nights that held no stars
Lost children to misfortune, someone must atone
They said they’d come to save us but were never going home
Then freedom came to no ones gain, we might have well have lost
Stay on your knees forever mamma you’ll never count the cost
Paid by a ‘forgotten’ soldier so wounded from so far
While fighting for salvation and a hard earned Burma Star
I have a vision of this soldier I’d never seen his face before
He was pickin’ up the pieces that were broken by the war
Broken dreams that never mended, a broken heart that turned to stone
He prayed for her redemption as he wept for his lost home
So I remember Seaford the bombs and the aeroplanes
The barbed wire on the beaches soldiers marching down the lanes
The memories still with me even now that I am grown
My birthplace, lost salvation, and the first time I left home
The Burma Star
My Father went to war soon after I was born and was posted to Burma. He would not return for 5 years. When I was 3 and my older brother 4, we were taken into care suffering from neglect and malnutrition. The two of us spent the next three years in the darkest of places that only small children can find. My 1 year old brother was abandoned on a train and was found at Cuckfield station. He was taken in by the Church of England Children’s Society and eventually adopted. We found him 42 years later.
I spent most of my life blaming my Father for our misfortune. It was not until late in my life that I learned the details…. So this is a tribute to my Dad….a true hero who I badly misjudged.
The Days Of Eighty Eight
Do you remember Suzy the days of eighty eight
We all lived together behind a broken gate
There were lilacs in the garden blue Iris by the wall
And you were in the kitchen and that’s the best of all
I see it o so clearly now the wood shed and the store
Dark cupboard and a pantry and some stairs behind a door
The cinders by the ‘out house’ where we were made to go
The wash tub and the mantelpiece, lamps and fire glow
The smell of something cooking ‘black leading’ on the grate
The teardrops and the laughter how they rang round eighty eight
Don’t tell me you don’t miss it. It simply isn’t true
As the memories surround me I can only think of you
Sweet memory don’t leave me of when we were in bed
I shared it with my cousins, Grandpa, Jim and poor old Ted
And you would light a candle to chase away the gloom
And you voice would carry fairy tales and wonder to my room
Your daddy had three daughters we lost the other two
But the good lord in his wisdom gave all there love to you
And Suzy you much older now, there’s tired on your face
An angel on each shoulder one is Jean and one is Grace
Those days have gone forever the days of eighty eight
We don’t live together and there is no broken gate
No Lilacs in the garden no Iris by the wall
No Suzy in the kitchen and that’s the worst of all
The Days Of Eighty Eight
I was six when my brother and I went live with my Aunt at 88 Burpham near Arundel in a thatched cottage, no water or electricity and just two bedrooms. My Aunt ‘Suzy’, a widow, also cared for her own three children and another two children of her sister Grace who had been orphaned plus her Father and Brother. In all there were 14 of us huddled together in that tiny cottage as ‘poor as church mice’ but I still remember the love, warmth and kindness that Suzy showed.
Lucy Cartwright
When I was only eight or nine
I thought that I was king
With all the wondrous things I had
It seemed like everything
A catapult a penknife
A shilling and a piece of string
A bike without a saddle
And a bell that wouldn’t ring
I couldn’t wait to get to school
I ran there all the way
In the afternoon run home again
Tea, then out to play
Sometimes bow and arrows
Sometimes climbing trees
Build a camp or light a fire
Happy days for me
In my ‘brand new’ clothes that did not fit
Someone else had worn before
Played fantastic games of make believe
With my friend who lived next door
Her name was Lucy Cartwright
She was seven nearly eight
A ‘tomboy’ who was kind too me
In my ‘ragamuffin’ state
We did everything together
She was everything to me
She helped me stealing bird’s eggs
Carved our names upon a tree
Sitting in the orchard
Picking hard skin off our knees
Running home to parents
Calling on the breeze
Riding in our ‘pram wheel’ carts
Show me show you mine
We said that we’d get married
That’s quite serious when you’re nine
We must have really meant it
That promise for all time
Sealed with a kiss of innocence
As she held her hand in mine
I walked on air spoke
I spoke too fast
Until that dreadful day
When I ran round to Lucy’s house
To see if she could play
A stranger opened up the door
Through a mist I heard him say
I’m sorry son she is not here
The Cartwright’s have moved away
I held on tight to something
Clenched my fists in disbelief
Plunged both hands into my pockets
Bowed my head to hide my grief
I never saw my friend again
Where she went I could nit say
The day my heart was broken
When the Cartwright’s moved away
Oh I wish I was still eight or nine
I wish I was still king
I wish I had me catapult
A shilling and a piece of string
Me bike without a saddle
And a bell that didn’t ring
With Lucy on me crossbar
I wouldn’t need thing
With Lucy Cartwright on my crossbar
Once more I’d be king
Lucy Cartwright
When I was 7 yrs old, reunited, our family moved to a small isolated hamlet of five or six cottages where all of us young kids played and roamed freely on downland, fields and forest….I had never known such happiness. The farmer’s daughter Lucy became my best friend and we were inseparable. She could fight, climb, run and swear with the best of us and she was very pretty! It really broke my heart when she moved away but that’s how things were in those days. I still lament the loss of my friend and the loss of childhood innocence which comes to us all, and I mourn that breathless joy that never returns.
No Flowers for Geordie
NO FLOWERS FOR GEORDIE, HE'S NOT HERE TODAY
THE SEA HAS CLAIMED MY GEORDIE BOY
PLEASE NO FLOWERS TODAY
FIFTEEN YEARS OF LEARNING, HE'LL NOT GO DOWN THE MINE
SO WE TOOK HIM NEAR TO IPSWICH TOWN
FAR FROM THE SEAMS OF THE TYNE
IN A PLACE THEY STILL CALL 'GANGES' WITH TWO THOUSAND OTHER BOYS
HE LEARNED TO SPLICE AND SAIL A BOAT
TALL ORDERS WERE HIS TOYS
THE 'BULLY BOYS' CAME NIGHTLY, DID THINGS A BOY COUNDN'T TELL
BUT THEY MADE HIM WRITE IN HIS LETTERS HOME
MAMMA YOU'R BOY'S DOIN WELL
THEN NEWS CAME OF SOME FIGHTING IN A FAR OFF DISTANT LAND
WE NEED THOSE BOYS THUS SPAKE FOUR RINGS
IN OUR BIG SHIPS THEY CAN RIDE
IT'S WRITTEN ON HIS PAPERS, TWAS NOT THE DEED OF A MAN
BUT A WAVE THAT TOOK MY GEORDIE BOY
FIVE MILES OFF PLYMOUTH SOUND
SO NO FLOWERS FOR GEORDIE HE'S NOT HERE TODAY
THE SEA HAS CLAIMED MY GEORDIE BOY
PLEASE NO FLOWERS TODAY
No Flowers for Geordie
Like lots of other boys I ran away from home when I was 14 yrs old and joined the Royal Navy as a Boy Seaman 2nd class. I was sent to the training Ship HMS Ganges a cruel harsh 12 months lay ahead of me and thousands of other boy’s. One lad, a Geordie, was drafted early to a Destroyer bound for the Mediterraniann sailed from Plymouth… He was washed overboard on his first few hours at sea……..His parents never knew of the misery he suffered at Ganges. I wrote this song a long time ago.
Escanaba
I keep dreaming of my home
I feel blue and all alone
But can’t you see Escanaba
You’ll do for me
Winter wind you sure blow cold
And living here a man could grow old
Or free
Escanaba you’ll do for me
You sure must be pretty in the fall
We’d like to hang around to see you all
But were moving on
Escanaba were moving on
Cos I keep dreaming of my home
I feel blue and all alone
But can’t you see
Escanaba you’ll do for me
We’d like to have the time to hang around
And stay awhile around your town
But we’re, movin on Escanaba
We’re movin on
Escanaba you treated us good
Escanaba they said that you would
Escanaba you’ll do for me
Escanaba
A small town in Northern Michigan USA where I played my first gig on our regular USA tours. We were very popular and got ‘held over’ for 3 weeks. February in Escanaba, not far from the Canadian border, is very, very cold but the people were great and showed us a good time…. So I wrote you this song… hope you like it! Thanks Escanaba!
Eileen
SUN ON THE SHANNON AS SHE RODE BESIDE ME
THIS BEAUTIFUL GIRL WITH GREEN EYES AND BLACK HAIR
QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS EXCHANGING GLANCES
PUNCTUATED THE SILENCE AS WE RODE ON TO CLARE
WHEN WE GOT CLARECASTLE OUR JOURNEY WAS OVER
SHE SMILED AND SAID THANK YOU, I SAID NOT AT ALL
THEN FROM UNDER HER EYELIDS SHE VENTURED TO ASK ME
WOULD I TAKE HER THAT NIGHT TO LAHINCH TO A BALL
CHORUS; WOULD YOU TAKE ONE MORE DANCE WITH ME EILEEN
WOULD YOU TAKE ONE MORE DANCE WITH ME
IF I COULD MEET YOU THERE IN THE COUNTY CLARE
WOULD YOU TAKE ONE MORE DANCE WITH ME
JUST FOR A MOMENT I STOOD THERE IN SILENCE
HOW COULD I SAY NO TO THIS LOVELY COLLEEN
I'D BE PROUD TO GO WITH YOU I VENTURED TO ANSWER
PLEASE TELL ME YOU'RE NAME, SURE MY NAME IS EILEEN
WE DANCED THROUGH THE EVENING AND INTO THE MORNING
I COULD NOT BELIEVE SHE WAS DANCING WITH ME
ONCE MORE ROUND THE FLOOR I SWEPT THE YOUNG EILEEN
IN MY ARMS I WAS HOLDING THE ROSE OF TRALEE
A FAIRY TALE STORY TIARA'S AND GLORY
SHE REIGNED FOR ONE YEAR DID THAT YOUNG BEAUTY QUEEN
BUT NOT SO LONG AFTER TEARS MIXED WITH LAUGHTER
AS I HAD TO SAY GOODBYE TO EILEEN
LONG YEARS HAVE PASSED SINCE I HAD TO LEAVE IRELAND
AND THAT BEAUTIFUL GIRL WHO BY CHANCE RODE WITH ME
I'LL NEVER FORGET HER NOR THE WAY THAT I MET HER
THAT GIRL FROM CLARECASTLE THE 'ROSE OF TRALEE '.
WOULD YOU TAKE ONE MORE DANCE WITH ME EILEEN
WOULD YOU TAKE ONE MORE DANCE WITH ME
IF I COULD MEET YOU THERE IN THE COUNTY CLARE
WOULD YOU TAKE ONE MORE DANCE WITH ME
TAG;.....SURE I'LL NEVER FORGET HER ....
'NOR THE WAY THAT I MET HER
THE GIRL FROM CLARECASTLE .............THE ROSE OF TRALEE
Eileen
Driving out of Limerick on my way to County Clare a beautiful young girl was hitching a lift, so, naturally, being a gentleman, I stopped. We chatted and ‘small talked’ along the way. At the end of the journey she asked if I would take her to a dance in Lahinch that evening. She was somewhat embarrassed to ask but her escort had let her down at the last minute. Naturally, being a gentleman, I agreed. I did not know at that time that this was a Ball to select the Rose of Tralee to represent County Clare…. I’m delighted to say that Eileen won that honour and went on to represent Ireland and then on to the World Finals…. and won!
A fairy tale story, tiaras and glory,
She reigned for one year did this young beauty Queen.
I’ll never forget her nor the way that I met her
That girl from Clare Castle the lovely Eileen
The Granuaile
I was drinking, with a Twangman in a bar down by the Old Burgh Quay
The banjo man played Peggy Gordon the night before we put sea
In the darkened dockyard, someone called me I swear I heard a 'banshee' wail
But young and bold my life before me I stepped aboard the Granuaile
We were heading for the Tuscar Rock where the Devil stirr's the sea
My tiny boat in open water put the fear of God up me
Granuaile take me back to the Liffey
Safe and sound by the Old burgh Quay
Let me drink my porter in the Twangman
Peggy Gordon the banjo man and me
The Bull Rock light house on a granite boulder stands alone against the sea
Davy Jones came and tapped my shoulder and put the fear of God up me
Hang on tight boys, I'm on the tiller, I know your frozen to the bone
Jump my boys next time she rises the Granuaile will take you home
Coming out of Wicklow harbour in a cutter on my own
No stars that night no lights to guide me I prayed to God please get me home
Lost and frightened, I pressed onwards into the night, into the gale
On the lost horizon my prayers were answered I saw the lights of the Granuale
The Granuaile
Out of work in Dublin but still in possession of my Able Seaman’s ticket I signed on as crew on the Granuaile moored on the river Liffey by O’Connell Bridge. She was part of the fleet that served the light houses around the Irish coast taking provisions and relief lighthouse keepers to there various stations. I had served in the Royal Navy for almost 7 years and considered myself to be an excellent ‘ small boatman’ but had never experienced such ‘stomach churning’ fear when working the Tuscar and Black Rock light houses. I completed several trips on the Granuaile, the Atlanta and the Isolda until I sought the safety of dry land. My admiration for those who served on those ships, and still do, knows no bounds. By the way, the ‘Banjo Man’ was Luke Kelly of The Dubliner’s !
Hard man
MY HEART WOULD SKIP AND MISS A BEAT AS I HEARD MY HERO'S FOOTSEPS MEET
THE GRAVEL ON THE PATHWAY TO OUR DOOR
HEARD THE SOUND OF A SCRAPING CHAIR AS MOTHER ROSE TO MEET HIM THERE
GIVING TO HER MAN THE THINGS HE NEEDED
HIS FOOTSTEPS HEAVY ON THE STAIRS, HAVE YOU BEEN GOOD AND SAID YOU'R PRAYERS
AND GOD FORBID IF HIS ORDERS WERE NOT HEEDED
NO KINDLY WORDS, NO KISS GOODNIGHT, CLOSE THE DOOR, TURN OUT THE LIGHT
IN OUR SILENCE WE COULD HEAR EACH OTHER BREATHING
WE ALL WORKED HARD TO EARN OUR KEEP, ATE IN SILENCE, DO NOT SPEAK
GOLDEN RULES THAT NEVER COULD BE BROKEN
NO WARMTH, NO SMILE, NO FOND EMBRACE, BEWARE THE HAND ACROSS THE FACE
IN THE SILENCE YOU COULD HEAR YOUR OWN HEART BEATING
LATE AT NIGHT HAVING SAID OUR PRAYERS WE'D SIT ON THE TOP THREE WOODEN STAIRS
AND LISTEN TO THE OLD MAN PLAY ACCORDION
PEACEFULL FEELINGS, LORD BE PRAISED, TONIGHT NO ANGRY VOICES RAISED
LIKE SILENT LAMBS PRETENDING WE WERE SLEEPING
Refrain My daddy was a Hardman...... My daddy was a hard hard ,man
I GREW UP FAST, LEAN AND STRONG AND HONEST KNOWING RIGHT FROM WRONG
BUT BY THIS TIME I HAD STOPPED BELIEVING
NO COMFORT HERE, NO LIFE AT ALL, I SAW THE WRITING ON THE WALL
AND COUNTED DOWN THE DAYS WHEN I WAS LEAVING
I HUGGED MY MUM, KISSED HER FACE, THREW A SHIRT AND TIE IN AN OLD SUITCASE
WAY OUT THERE ANOTHER WORLD WAS CALLING
YOU CAN CALL ME BACK IT'S NOT TOO LATE, NO WORDS CAME SO I CLOSED THE GATE
AS MAMA'S TEARS LIKE AUTUMN LEAVES WERE FALLING
refrain WHEN MAMMA WROTE MY HEART WOULD BURN, MISSED MY HOME BUT NOT RETURN
SENT BACK MY LOVE AND PRAYED FOR THERE SAFEKEEPING
I LIVED MY LIFE WITH THE MARK OF CAIN AND WE HARDLY EVER SPOKE AGAIN
AND SAD TO SAY HIS HARDNESS LAY WITHIN ME
WHEN HIS TIME CAME TO TURN TO DUST, I JOURNEYED HOME AS EACH CHILD MUST
GATHERED ROUND HIS GRAVE SOMONE WAS SPEAKING
SOMETHINGS ANGRY, SOMETHINGS SAD, SOMETHINGS GOOD, SOMETHINGS BAD,
SHEDDING TEARS THE YEARS HAD BEEN KEEPING
I HAD NEVER BEEN IN HIS ROOM BEFORE, I TURNED ON THE LIGHT AND LOCKED THE DOOR
HOPING THAT SOMEHOW I MIGHT BE NEAR HIM
IN A CARDBOARD BOX TIED UP WITH STRING WERE SOME PHOTOGRAPHS THAT I'D NEVER SEEN
PRESSED FLOWERS IN LOVE LETTERS HE'D BEEN KEEPNG
WARTIME MEDALS IN A ROWE WERE THERE COMPLETE WITH RIBBONS AND A LOCK OF HAIR
CHRISTMAS CARDS, KISSES LOVE AND GREETINGS
THEN I READ HIS LETTERS TO HIS MUM AND DAD FROM A FRIGHTENED LONELY SOLDIER LAD
FROM A RED CROSS BED WRITTEN WHILE HIS WOUNDS WERE HEALING
MATHEW FIVE VERSE TWENTY ONE 'THOU SHALL NOT KILL' HIS LINES BEGUN, WORDS HE TOOK FROM A BOOK HE WAS READING
I COULD ALMOST HEAR MY DADDIES SCREAMS, SACRIFICED FOR SOMEONES DREAMS
YOU CAN'T ALWAYS MEND WHAT YOU HAVE BROKEN
I FELT MY KNEES SINK TO THE FLOOR I'D LOST MY DAD IN THAT 'KN WAR
HIS STORY TOLD NOT A SINGLE WORD WAS SPOKEN
I HOPE HE KNOWS THAT WHEN I LOOKED INSIDE I FOUND A GENTLEMAN WITH A GENTLE SIDE
AND SUDDENLY I FELT VERY NEAR HIM
I PUT BACK HIS THINGS WITH A TENDER CARE AS HE MUST HAVE DONE WHEN HE PUT THEM THERE
BECAUSE MY DADDY WAS A HARD MAN.........MY DADDY WAS A HARD HARD MAN.
Hard man
This is a song about and tribute to my Father. The hardest song I have ever written and sometimes too difficult to perform. Thousands upon Thousands of men returned from the war emotionally broken with no help at all. It is now known as Post Traumatic Stress and the damage took its toll on many a family. I know I am not alone when I sing the song. It strikes a chord with many people who have ‘been there’………words say it all!
Absolution
When I get to heaven will the good lord break me
Or will he take me just as I am
Or will the things that disgrace me make the devil embrace me
Or is absolution still a part of the plan
‘cos I climbed every mountain that you put before me
Swam very ocean, river and stormy sea
Never stayed in the harbour, couldn’t a worked any harder
But I’ve got the feelin that the ceilin’s fallin in on me
Well I didn’t get it all wrong, thanks for the ‘bird song’
And all the wondrous things found on the street
But when you walked there beside me, why didn’t you guide me?
Or was the devil on your level when he grabbed a hold of my feet
Well I’ve walked a long way, maybe the wrong way
Do you think that it’s too late to turn me around?
Because I’ve seen what’s before me, God you gotta call me!
‘cos if I ain’t lost how the hell can I be found!
Absolution
Don’t wait until it’s too late!