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It seems the more you think,
          the more you try and solve this life,
The deeper you'll dig, the harder you'll work,
          to try and find what's right.
An answer found, you're on firm ground,
          You're in control of strife;
Now just don't turn, or you'll have to learn,
          To readjust that right.

          There's no such thing as right or wrong,
          There's only make believe.
          The only victims are the strong....
                 Those who try and lead.

          The will to try, the will to die,
          Lies buried in us all.
          Who know what buttons need be pushed..
                  If pushing makes us fall.

          My pride and joy, those little boys,
          Their minds so very pure,
          You mix the makings of a life....
                  Results are never sure.

          Pleasing Him, pleasing you,
          No pleasing different points of view.
          People spread so very thin......
                 Their being settles in your skin.

          Unto Caesars which is his,
          What you have, that you give.
          Masters one or masters two......
                  To many masters, no more you.

          We live on land, we have at hand
          the tools to make us true.
          But one thing known above all else....
                   No universal cure.

The more I think about such things
           and try and solve this life,
The deeper I dig, the harder I work,
            to try and find what's right.
No answers found, there's no firm ground,
            no control of strife;
So I keep on turning, never learning.....
            never knowing what's right.

t. horn
 

 

   
botom
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