I have drawn my hands away
Toward peace and the grey margins of the day.
The andante of vain hopes and lost regret
Falls like slow rain that whispers to forget,—
Like a song that neither questions nor replies
It laves with coolness tarnished lips and eyes.

I have drawn my hands away
At last to touch the ungathered rose. O stay,
Moment of dissolving happiness! Astir
Already in the sky, night's chorister
Has brushed a petal from the jasmine moon,
And the heron has passed by, alas, how soon!

I have drawn my hands away
Like ships for guidance in the lift and spray
Of stars that urge them toward an unknown goal.
Drift, O wakeful one, O restless soul,
Until the glittering white open hand
Of heaven thou shalt read and understand.

Who would suspect me? (Who?)
Pillar of community (Yeah)
Wife and kids, living free (Free)
Dark secrets, can't you see? (See?)
Can you honestly say (What?)
Never wanted someone gone? (Nah)
Fleeting thought on a bad day (Day)
When someone's done you wrong (Wrong)

Little Jimmy, eight years old, called to the study
Headmaster's cane, but fate got bloody
Tripped and fell, pen through the eye
Who would suspect? Just a little guy
Angel face, scraped knees, first to yell for help
Picture of innocence, yeah, that's how I dealt
Teenage years, crush had a different beau
Bike accident, tragic, but put on a show
Found him first, tears in my eyes
Blood on my hands, perfect alibi
Who would suspect? The grieving friend
Got the girl too, but that had to end

Workshop drama, boss caught in the lathe
Tried to stop it, but a second too late
First on scene, shock on my face
Who would suspect? I set the pace
Years roll by, bodies pile up
Accidents happen, that's just my luck
Neighbour's kid, music too loud
Car exploded, drew quite a crowd
Who would suspect? Upstanding citizen
Church volunteer, reputation heaven-sent
Hiding darkness behind this mask
Getting away with every task

Now I'm Old James, grandkids on my knee
Looking back on a life lived secretly
Family tradition, hope they'll carry on
My legacy when I'm dead and gone
Who would suspect? The doting grandpa
Telling stories, but not the real saga
Lifetime of secrets, hidden so well
Truth behind smiles, no one can tell