Forever walking wounded
by PaulAnthony
Posted: Monday, September 27, 2004 Word Count: 95 |
When I walk that surest path,
Down that sweetest road,
I'll try my hardest not to laugh
And follow the ancient code.
Maybe drift away with subtlety,
respect can guide my hand,
or ease the chains that set me free,
Shoulder my weary stand.
Fan this flame that touches my soul,
Can we temper my passioned brow?
Pick a piece or sycthe the whole,
as footprints show us how.
The way this goes is sad but mute,
What stood before counts true,
Clear the target this line to shoot
Is all that's left to you.
Down that sweetest road,
I'll try my hardest not to laugh
And follow the ancient code.
Maybe drift away with subtlety,
respect can guide my hand,
or ease the chains that set me free,
Shoulder my weary stand.
Fan this flame that touches my soul,
Can we temper my passioned brow?
Pick a piece or sycthe the whole,
as footprints show us how.
The way this goes is sad but mute,
What stood before counts true,
Clear the target this line to shoot
Is all that's left to you.