Hammers

Still, these young hammers beat from beneath our ribs
The rhythms of the kids we thought we'd ceased to be, yet never did
I've all the empty books a man could need
To fill with the borrowed words of a grieving teen...
'But think a little louder, cos I can't hear what your mind wants to say'
Hands long since parted, here offered up in haste
For sorrows fashioned from old mistakes, old mistakes
But think a little louder, cos I can't hear what your mind wants to say
And give me all your heartache, cos it's me who should be hurting anyway
We will hammer, from beneath our ribs, we will hammer the rhythm of the kids