She is twelve I'm only ten
buried in this soft mountain of pillows
Parents away
She asks me have I been touched
Have I done the thing with anyone yet
Silence, a shy no

And there is nothing
That we'd rather share
Than that bodily warmth if we'd dare
But she's already twelve and I am
Just a child
Warm and shy

She's so old, already twelve and I am only ten
Than was me, young and free, there and then

Now in this hotel room I lie wondering who I am
Never quite as sure after a lie of questioning
Finding out at last that freedom is
A state of mind
But still not knowing how to get along with this mankind

Finding out at last that freedom is a state of mind

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Writer(s): DANIEL GILDENLOEW, PAIN OF SALVATION