Blind

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Why do we go through life
blind, never seeing whats really there.
Not seeing all that passes by,
Just living life without a care.

Why do we only look at those
who are famous and of the richest?
When the real america lies
in those who make up the stitches.

The people that stitch us together.
The ones that bring us hope.
The ones that tie us all together,
in one giant American rope.

But lately the ropes been rather short.
It seems that the level of love
has come crashing down.
All it took was a little shove.

Now it seems its all about being perfect
and being what others want us to be.
But all it does is make us something
different than what we want to seem.

The love seems to be
dissapearing,
and I want it to start
reappearing.
Cause if the love is gone,
then so is the hope.
And if we don't have those
we're just breaking the rope.





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