Sunday, August 14, 2011

Monday Morning


Long before my stomping grounds got trampled on,
I sat and felt the greatest song,
That every painter, every poet, couldn't create,
And the words they open doors,
From what my parents had wished for,
When they had a child and raised a kid that came to this,

And how good does life feel in times like this?
And how good is my shot before I close my eyes and miss?
These feelings exist,

Let it rain on Monday morning,
Right before the world's awake,
I will lie there and just think about the weather,
Let my blood beat from my chest,
And put my veins up to it's test,
I will breathe in and know what it feels to feel alive,
I'm alive

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