Memoirs sat upon a dusting shelf
The writers now moved on and this is his legacy
Draws me in, against my instinct
I take down this dusting book and so begin to read...
Born into regret of a mother
And father taught him lessons that began with fist
This slip of a kid could walk
Egg shells and slept with one eye
Open thinking Jesus missed
These never ending days can drain the life away
But come his hour he will be dancing
On the coals of despise
And growing pains eased as father weakened
The abuse became now verbal
And the hurt was raw
He ran at fifteen
Alone with rucksack
Sat in doorways watching life pa**
Thinking whats this for?
And into his life she came creeping
Gave him feelings never felt before and held him tight
They grew with their love
Now isolations dead
Hes conquered all his hate and this he had to write
These never ending days can drain my life away
But come my hour I will be dancing
On the coals of despise.
He wrote and carried close these feelings on a note
Now lifes for living and Im looking to the future
He cries