Blood Stained Hands

I have stopped my ways of being wild I have almost all together stop my ways of acting like a child But more often than not I think about if I did what I done was worth while I look at my scars upon my hands, each one tells a story but not every scar is filled with glory I regret the deep cuts on my hands caused from a fight with the boys before me I just hope that the memory of the pain I caused is a little less by the time I turn forty I do what I must, but as a youngster I do what I can Telling stories right where I stand Lord forgive me for my blood stained hands.