16000
Spinning spiralling thoughts of me left as debris
Seeing you climb that mountain with my child
And my decisevness was not appreciated
So back turned you arrive to the top
Preaching clouds staring out at pulpit
I am down on my knees to the Lord
You are arriving into being a real man at last
Raising your third child
Your sentiments are bitter and resentful left at my door
To heal as if a witch, the potion cupboard is not closed
I will disclose his strength
Allow the almighty into my humble glory
Allow him to write my story
