Sunday, January 10, 2010

We do it everyday

People walk a tight rope on a razor’s edge
Carrying their hurt and hatred and weapons
It could be a bomb, or a bullet, or a pen
Or a thought, or a word, or a sentence

There ain't no reason things are this way
It's how they always been and they intend to stay
I don’t know why I say the things that I say,
But I say them anyway


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