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.
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