By a Thread
All I want is for a gentle spirit to lay where I lay
Not too far from home or too close to the fray,
Like any young girl she explored her world
How quickly her time unfurled,
She soon became a wounded soul
Preying upon any good man who passed by on patrol,
What kind of mark has time left on your spirit?
The blood that flows can you hear it?
Flowers grow then wither and die
Chasing that same old pie in the sky,
Sometimes there’s a tear in my eye
The scars have healed but I can’t deny,
A sentimental feeling in the Autumn air
The sensation of my hands in her hair,
Chasing a phantom of a memory no longer there
Asking the Lord if there’s any love you can spare,
A victim of a sacred love that vaporized one day
No way out no matter how hard I prayed,
I dare not look too far ahead facing such dread
No longer any visions of fire flies in my head,
This cold cold bed that I have instead
All those fantasies by which I was so misled,
Is there still love for me or is it dead?
Oh God sometimes I’m hanging on by a thread.
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