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The Shakeless hand, blisters, |
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cracks and bleeds. |
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Never old, but twisted and misleading. |
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How can we share what is gone and lost. |
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Resurrected, it defeats all purpose. |
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Thoughtless deeds, |
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keep us down as we grieve. |
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Shackled tight to our pride. |
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Searching blind for the key. |
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All the while it lies inside. |
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So i try to define. |
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Between wrong and right. |
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But i can't draw the line. |
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Getting harder to find. |
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My peace of mind. |
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And i can't draw the line. |
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Still i try to make time. |
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Yet with each try. |
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I can't draw the line |
