It should make my heart sing.
In the end it was come what may.
Storm cloud fogging the feeling.
All well when no rains to give me fright
Inside the soul cracks and sizzles
Not ringing out like bells and whistles.
I am left all feeling nice and clean
The sand clings they are a stickin
That clean feeling all gone not keen
While times look bright
Griefs grip hard to see
Mountain path no sight
