Whiskers

Sitting on a broken dream

And memories are what might have been

Biscuit crumbs and bird seed in his

Whiskers, whiskers, whiskers

Even though he never went to war

He still felt something worth fighting for

But no one else ever cared as much as

Whiskers, whiskers, whiskers

Whiskers, whiskers, whiskers

He sits in the moonlight

on top of the hill

Playing a penny whistle

and picking thistles out of his kilt

He rubs his paws together

and it begins to snow

As he counts up all the Christmas lights

in the village down below

He sits around the campfire

and licks at his wounds

Staring sadly back at his reflection

in a spoon

We used to want the same things

when we were growing up

But somewhere along the way

I started hoping for too much

I found his little plastic shield

Chewed up on the battlefield

And I knew then I'd never make a friend again like

Whiskers, whiskers, whiskers

Whiskers, whiskers, whiskers

Whiskers, whiskers, whiskers

Whiskers, whiskers, whiskers