innocents
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You may play me out and have the media cover me up and show me as a lie.but this kind of rage and heartache can never be covered up with all the bloodshed flowing in the street, and many not understanding why
The hill of dirt is a volcano of small spackles of red lava,
The sting is a fresh memory of all who have experienced the burn,
The pain is still fresh
The bitter anger still prominent.
I let the shadows speak
I let the mind grow
But never let it be weak,
To discover the things I need to know.
A beginning of a moment must come to an end
The end of a moment must come to a beginning.
