 You touch these tired eyes of mine
And map my face out line by line,
And somehow growing old feels fine.
Listen close for I'm not smart:
You wrap your thoughts in works of art,
And they're hanging on the walls of my heart.
I may not have the softest touch;
I may not say the words as such,
And though I may not look like much,
I'm yours.
And though my edges may be rough;
I never feel I'm quite enough;
It may not seem like very much,
But I'm yours.
You healed these scars over time:
Embraced my soul,
You loved my mind.
You're the only angel in my life.
The day news came my best friend died,
my knees went weak; you saw me cry.
Say I'm still the soldier in your eyes.
I may not have the softest touch;
I may not say the words as such,
And though I may not look like much,
I'm yours.
And though my edges may be rough;
I never feel I'm quite enough;
It may not seem like very much,
But I'm yours.
I may not have the softest touch;
I may not say the words as such,
I know I don't fit in that much,
I'm yours.
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