Until the Money's Gone | john-allee-official

The Outsider
Words and music by John Allee

I watched him come through the door every night at 8 O’clock
A briefcase in his hand
And sometimes he’d carry flowers
And he’d give them to mother
And she’d pour him a drink
But when they looked at each other
Sometimes I’d think
He is the outsider

You see my father and me never had that much to say
It’s not that he was cold
But he never said “I love you”
But I heard it from mother
And I heard it a lot
So when we looked at each other
Sometimes I thought
He is the outsider

Outside
But just within reach
Floats the open hand
Inside
The willingness to teach
To understand

And now a son of my own watches me with hopeful eyes
A blanket in his hand
With a face that’s as bright as laughter
And he’ll ask for his mother
And he’ll suddenly cry
And as they comfort each other
I hope that I
Won’t be the outsider

Won't be the outsider