April 5, 2017

Hope

F C Em Am
Warm is the weather beating down on us
When searching for shade at the edge of the glade
What you hope to find, what you will not see,
Is a path at the edge of insanity

Suddenly your taken no relation to me
The brighter it gets the more i can see
The rope will not bind when we’re lost at sea
cause the cuts that you make will set me free



I will not jump or fall away

cleaver


you have no over over me

A work in progress
(C)2017 J. Canales


WRITTEN APR 5, 2017
EDITED 
APR 5, 2017