Baby I’m not bad news I’m

just full of empty space

If you’re the rope then I’m the noose

you’ll tie then say my grace

Would you agree I came too soon

like mornings sunken face

When hopes and dreams were plentiful

since then I’ve been replaced—

By what our mothers told us not

to worry, we were young

For what our fathers griped about

at home when they were done

It wasn’t them but us who felt

their pains of growing old

Now adults we’re much younger than

their hands which we still hold—

Cause baby you’re the good news I’ve

been keeping from myself

It’s for the best, regardless yet

I’ll wish then wish you well

And if by chance there’s room enough

to hang around a while

It’s there they’ll say it’s quite a shame

what an awful, gentle smile