Ben Folds Five
unwindling deeds sweep through four man's cross
washing away the wrong i have done in tross
over the misty moutian tops i have walked stubbling over all rocks, the loss of
balance knocks
walking in my shoes and gaze around in a look down
i have found that i stand alone on this sacred ground
all messages unpassed clown
openly giving evreything i ever had in my possion
allthough all i have is blind intention
i seperate the emachatude of wisdom an intelect
i was born into toleration and inprisonment
i have strived too for the mercy that was never given or shown
i will not return home for i have long been forgoten
could i should i would i
no
Copyright © Ian Schmidtka | Year Posted 2007
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