Drought In A Hole

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Be it mere illusion
But I rest in his delusion
Though soldier’s in his stories
Always seem to die
Never ending stories blood life after life
And he gets away with that lie

Paintbrush my fingers
Make them sing
Help them heal
His loneliness

Now we look to the stars
Or as he’d like to say
“I talk to the skies”
That’s something more
Too far bent
If god wasn’t it
Why don’t you stress it less?

God take my hands
Make them light
Help them heal
Be his guide

The ground beneath
Surrenders to him
Raising hell as he looks my way
I’m refusing to turn away

His souls too drained
Too deep in life’s lows
Never can erase all the
Pain and sorrow

He’s headed south
I wanna follow his drought…





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