The Sand.

There is the ship that bore us and tore us asunder,
I’ve seen thunder clouds of joy and spring showers of pain,
The rain though, is ever constant,
A thousand drops that hide the monsters,
In my responsibility I’m responsive,
I feel the tells that tell of what’s to come,

Do you now hear the drum beat,
Pump, pump, while feet are marching,
Life is a battle what will you make your war?

For I grow sore when I’m despondent,
I’ll knock the bank, and burn the laundry,
It’s not clothes or money that make me who I am,
It’s the sand I see myself as,
For when I’m gone I’m only as good as,
What it is that I have gave,

So I’ll brave the ship that bore me,
I’ll chase the storms that do implore me,
To give all I am, and say all I have to say,

Until my goodbye does finally reach you,
It is my smile that’ll surely greet you,
We all, we each, are warriors,
This is our story, of who we have become.


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