I sit uncomfy on the on the chance
that something's going wrong.
I say I'm fine I float away
so what about my John?
I didn't say when I was bed
because who really cares?
But he can't speak and yes I know
being eaten by your fears.
So lad John, my darling boy
if something's not quite right...
my body's yours to hold so close;
to hold forever tight.