You
I am beaten
my voice
has screamed itself to waste
I'm tired of talking to You
because I just
screamed the lungs out of
this mortal clay in which You framed my soul
But
through this all I did taste
Your living love leading me on
and
sometimes at Your own expence
You stir up the fire in my heart
You'll take the burns so I can
rage a while
then rest my head on Your shoulder
and sleep
Over dit gedicht
| Auteur: Cypher-punks | 
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| Gecontroleerd door: Frummel | ||
| Gepubliceerd op: 13 juni 2004 | ||
| Thema's: | ||