grant me the will to smile
as the world throws me on trail
as the snakes grab a hold
and leave me dead in the cold
they attack the young
the spit on the old
the play the role of pretend
they want your happiness to end
but with you as my sword and shield
the run, and and yield
the slither away
they die and rot in decay
lift up my soul
when I feel a hole
and feel like giving in
show me your light
when it's dark
because you are all
I need to survive
No comments:
Post a Comment