"there's a little child drowning in a pond, and you would have me throw a blanket on the surface of the water, even though she was your daughter, and watch just how helplessly she dies. for the sake of how it looks cause it's like you've read in books. it's a symbol of the way you see this life. and if a Saviour came upon a tray of gold you'd insist that he had already been sold, even though you knew he hadn't. you're afraid to trade the bad in, for a good that you don't know. like a certain generation in a proud and headstrong nation who expects God to dance whenever she plays the fife. and if you want to talk in terms of the survival of the fittest, take a look at the souls auction house and who's the highest bid is. you understand the fear of man, but you forgot about the fear of God. and to the bloody ransom that makes an ugly soul turn handsome, you give a condescending nod. there's a sense of desperation in your touch. and you say out loud you hate it very much, but you're addicted to your sadness, cause it creates the touch of madness. the kind you like inside your veins. oh why are you so hardened? you know you could be pardoned. i guess you just will not let go of the reigns. and the lexicon of death is all you know. you feel suffocated in the falling snow, cause you miss the beauty there, in the quiet holy air. and start looking for a desert you can roam. and your eyes too closed to see the secret ministry of the frost upon the window of your home. oh why are you so hardened? you know you could be pardoned. and then you would not feel so all alone. you're not alone." -don chaffer- __________________________________________________ Do You Yahoo!? Talk to your friends online with Yahoo! Messenger. http://im.yahoo.com
