Sentiment wrapped in paper
lacks the punch
of a tongue,
so give me my gun and give me my sword;
be not my death
but be my reward.
We're close.
We're going out of our way
hanging our hopes on a "maybe I'm crazy."
Shoulder cold
from the shake down,
not to fear what's to come.
So give me my gun and give me my sword;
be not my death
but be my reward.
We're close.
We're going out of our way
hanging our hopes on a "maybe I'm crazy."
And for the rest of my life
I thought I'd be doing just fine
without one.
1 | Grace The Fulcrum |
2 | We Survive On Stars |
3 | Sleepless We Seem |
4 | Chances Are |
5 | Bad, Now, Near And Alone |
6 | John Henryism |