It h.u.r.t.s. to hit the ground
When you’ve f
n from the clouds.
It knocks the -breath- from your lungs,
And the love from your s h a t t e r e d soul.
You pass out
And wake up in a darkened room
With the heat on BLAST
and sweat dripping down your face.
Or are those -tears?-
You just wallow,
Because after all what are you good for?
Trapped in the Hell you made all your own.
A light is shining,
just a pinprick on the ground
where you lay your head.
And the light is enough
To make you lift your head up ^
And with a renewed determination
from the ashes of the bridges you burned,
and with beneath your ragged nails
You b r e a k through the barrier,
and s.t.e.p. into the ((light))
Head held high.