Crumbled Clay
No matter how you paint it
Every time the same thing comes back
Open your eyes just a bit
The colors turn black.
Whatever the words that are said
They never come out the right way
Dreams should be left in bed
Not how you live each day,
Prisons are made of bars of fear
Like a fog that clouds your eyes
Freedom is always so near
In between life and the lies.
Destiny starts on the first road you take
And never found on the paths in which you stray
Free will is only the mistakes you make
As the world turns the living into crumbled clay….
Copyright © Jim Campbell | Year Posted 2007
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