Ron Sexsmith
Ron Sexsmith
Ron Sexsmith
Ron Sexsmith
Ron Sexsmith
Ron Sexsmith
Ron Sexsmith
Ron Sexsmith
Ron Sexsmith
Ron Sexsmith
Ron Sexsmith
Ron Sexsmith
Ron Sexsmith
Ron Sexsmith
Ron Sexsmith
Off in a world of our own
Where the discordant tone
Of unrest never riles
Our sleepy town of denial
Where all of the tears people cry
Fall on deaf ears
For we turn a blind eye
Off on our way to the stars
Over discos and bars
No rest for the like
Of the wicked despite
Knowing all of the tears people cry
May fall on deaf ears
If we turn a blind eye
We could lose a lot of sleep if we weren't so numb
To the steady stream of those who struggle in the night
Through the tunnel at the end of the light
God must have gone fishing now
With all that Hell's dishing out
One question have I
(Don't expect a reply though)
All of the tears people cry
Do they fall on deaf ears?
Do you just turn a blind eye?