Sing me a lullaby of how I came to be
I'll lay my head down on my pillow
A song of birth and time and light across the sea
Hanging, hanging on
If I'm God's image then I'm guessing he must know
That sometimes evil seems to prosper
And sometimes love means watching as I go
Hanging, hanging on
Like a tiny boat upon a wild sea
Like a promise hanging low on
The weakest branches a dodgy family
Hanging, hanging on
A thread of a forgotten mother and her child
Wound around the baby's heal
So unentitled up until the heavens smiled
Hanging hanging on by a thread
To one baby lying on the prickly hay
To the odds of our survival
To the rationales that get me through the day
Hanging hanging on by a thread
Still hanging on, still hanging on
Still hanging on, still hanging on
Still hanging on (By a thread)
Still hanging on (By a thread)
Still hanging on (By a thread)
Still hanging on (By a thread)