Sister Sinead

By Kris Kristofferson

I'm singing this song for my sister Sinead
Concerning the god-awful mess that she made
When she told 'em her truth just as hard as she could
Her message, profoundly, was misunderstood.
There's humans entrusted with guarding our gold
Humans in charge of the saving of souls
Humans responded all over the world
Condemning that bald-headed brave little girl.
And maybe she's crazy and maybe she ain't
But so was Picasso and so were the Saints
She's never been partial to shackles or chains
She's too old for breakin' and too young to change.
It's asking for trouble to stick out you neck
In terms of a target, a big silhouette
And some candles flicker and some candles fade
And some burn as true as my sister Sinead.
Maybe she's crazy and maybe she ain't
But so was Picasso and so were the Saints
She's never been partial to shackles or chains
She's too old for breakin' and too young to change.

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