I am the barely-living son of a woman and man who barely made it
But we’re making it
Numere>
autor: DonTravolta, 08/10/2021
Arhiva
In the clearing stands a boxer
And a fighter by his trade
And he carries the reminders
Of every glove that laid him down
And cut him ’til he cried out
In his anger and his shame
“I am leaving, I am leaving”
But the fighter still remains
I thought that they could end
No, no it was a deception
The number of tears and the number of beers
Were dried out and uncounted for a number of years
Usually the lines grow faint
Like old house paint
Just a way to mark the years gone by
You lay on a couch three weeks
Until the color came back into your cheeks
We’ll put it back together
Raise up a giant ladder
With love and trust and friends and hammers
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