Father, I think I´m different I don´t like playing with the other boys Father, I´m different I like the way the flowers smell
On a high ledge, on a high ledge On a high ledge, on a high ledge On a high ledge, on a high ledge On a high ledge, on a high ledge On a high ledge, on a high ledge On a high ledge, on a high ledge On a high ledge, on a high ledge On a high ledge, on a high ledge
I want to cry but I don´t know how My lips are chapped but my hands are soft Circles don´t fit into squares
On a high ledge, on a high ledge On a high ledge, on a high ledge On a high ledge, on a high ledge On a high ledge, on a high ledge
On a high ledge, on a high ledge On a high ledge, on a high ledge On a high ledge, on a high ledge On a high ledge, on a high ledge
On a high ledge, on a high ledge On a high ledge, on a high ledge On a high ledge, on a high ledge On a high ledge, on a high ledge