Some Days
Some days I shout so loud,
You can not hear the words.
Like the touch of molten iron,
Feeling cold before the burn.
Some days I speak so softly,
You don't even fear the stick.
I make up lost time with simple rhymes,
The past resides, somewhere deep inside,
The unremembered wall clocks tick.
You can not hear the words.
Like the touch of molten iron,
Feeling cold before the burn.
Some days I speak so softly,
You don't even fear the stick.
I make up lost time with simple rhymes,
The past resides, somewhere deep inside,
The unremembered wall clocks tick.
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