Through A Cloud
Wasted Young, Breaking the chain, making life harder Making fun, Breaking the chain, making life harder
hold your gun,
Faith as bright as the morning sun,
Fathers dead,
Or so they said,
In dragged the dogs bones now and then,
Curtious enough,
Not to make things tough,
he came for them with no care before him.
Growing up, things get tougher older
Waking up, lifes not made of butterflies
Stop looking at life asthough it worked from a childs eyes.
of a child once loved,
before the devils came and drew his blood,
walking corpse,
across the floor,
remember when life thrived in our times,
Forced to leave,
without chance to grieve,
he came for us with guns and thieves.
Growing up, things get tougher older
Waking up, lifes not made of butterflies
Stop looking at life asthough it worked from a childs eyes.
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THE GOODS
You're currently reading the poem
Through A Cloud, which
was posted on Sep 23, 2010 by
NatesTheName.
This is a collaborative poem.
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This poem is filed under:
Just for Fun, Lyric
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