I walk through the valley of death 

A year goes by of violence and pain, pushing through the darkness not knowing if our world will still be here to see our dreams come true.

But with the pain comes suffering, and complaints and insults because of acquisitions and judgment of one another.

Shootings, why do we do this we are just making the day of judgment come faster and faster?

With every day of death, waking up becomes a gift. 

They say they lost faith in our generation that they had a rough childhood, but we, oh yes, we have to grow up with things that seemed were not even plausible.

They used to be able to ask someone for directions without being worried about their life. 

They used to be able to go out and not have to carry a whistle.  

Yes, this world is bad, but I have faith, a very broken and weak faith, but faith it is.