Post by Reality Bytes on Mar 4, 2004 17:37:05 GMT -5
My fingers grip for the ground
To save myself life around
The sun beats on my back
My strife held with it a sack
Boils line my skin
A cure I hope to win
Is held at my journeys end
At the source of the north wind
The strong whip of hate
Cuts away at my fate
To lift away the pain
Away like the vain
To save myself life around
The sun beats on my back
My strife held with it a sack
Boils line my skin
A cure I hope to win
Is held at my journeys end
At the source of the north wind
The strong whip of hate
Cuts away at my fate
To lift away the pain
Away like the vain