That’s all really we really were then, motherless children wild on the beach, wrestling the waves-
You hated God most then, and me, I’d forgotten how to pray, my mind banished to garden of graves.
Frantic with fury at a world stone cold for which we cared way too much,
Starved for some sort of sign, some grain of hope, a golden gentle touch,
We never saw the answers coming, sneaking closer under cover of the darkest hour of night-
Time heals wounds-really just buries them good and deep, change comes sudden, things turn right,
Never believe the knot in your gut-it’s the price for being alive,
Never sell the secrets in your soul- you need them to survive,
Just forge ahead like soldier till sky cracks open and you arrive.