Dónde está el niño que yo fui, Sigue adentro de mí o se fue? Sabe que no lo quise nunca Y que tampoco me quería? Por qué anduvimos tanto tiempo Creciendo para separarnos? Por qué no morimos los dos Cuándo mi infancia se murió? Y si el alma se me cayó Por qué me sigue el esqueleto?

She seemed glad to see me when I appeared in the kitchen, and by watching her I began to think there was some skill involved in being a girl.

You know, my children go to a local, local catholic school just down the road.

Written By John Deacon

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