Worry Too Much by Mark Heard


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Second Hand by Mark Heard

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Worry Too Much
by Mark Heard

Album: Second Hand


Itís the demolition derby,
Itís the sport of the hunt,
Itís a proud tribe in full war dance,
Itís the slow smile that the bully gives the runt,
Itís the force of inertia,
Itís the lack of constraint,
Itís the children out playing in the rock garden, all dolled up in black hats and war paint.

Sometimes it feels like bars of steel I cannot bend with my hands.

Oh, worry too much,
Somebody told me that I worry too much,
Oh, worry too much,
Somebody told me that I worry too much.

Itís these sandpaper eyes and the way they rub the lustre from what is seen,
Itís the way we tell ourselves that all these things are normal, Ďtil we canít remember what we mean,
Itís the flicker of our flames,
Itís the friction born of living,
Itís the way we beat a hot retreat and heave our smoking guns into the river.

And sometimes it feels like bars of steel I cannot bend with my hands.

Oh, I worry too much,
Oh, worry too much,
Oh, worry too much,
Somebody told me that I worry too much.

Itís the quick-step march of history, the vanity of nations,
Itís the way thereíll be no muffled drums to mark the passage of my generation,
Itís the children of my children,
Itís the lambs born in innocence,
Itís wondering if the good I know will last to be seen by the eyes of the little ones.

Sometimes it feels like bars of steel I cannot bend with my hands.

Oh, worry too much,
Somebody tell me that I worry too much,
Oh, worry too much,
Somebody told me that I worry too much,
Oh, I worry too much,
Somebody told me that I worry too much,
Oh, I worry too much,
Somebody told me that I worry too much.

Worry too much.


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