My deepest thoughts consist of a world filled with equality
walking down the street without a police man stopping me
As time goes by the worlds mind continues to be amputated
stripped of its freedom, something that has been tolerated
For many years, people shedding so many tears
the damage has been done and now we all fear
What we can't see but we know it exists
even tho this world is broken it can be fixed
Take our pride and lift it high
the opressors couldn't even wrap thier head around why we sit and cry
fight back, think ahead and speak up
keep composure but believe me i know your fed up
live your life doing the things you want to do
being happy sometimes it means just being you
Real people do what they want, opressed people do what they can
We are the people that make up this world so lets take a STAND!

So many hurting people
Every where I look.
They glorify their cover
But I can read them like a book.

Pages of sin, hardened hearts,
Friendships tearing apart.
More pain than one can ever bear,
Smile in place, pretend not to care.

Wipe a tear and lend an ear,
Is all that I can do.
Want to change their song and dance,
Wish I could change their circumstance.

The pages of my story,
Loathsome with no glory,
Reads much the same as all theirs.
Will I lift the cover, pages bare?

Let them see they’re not alone,
I can not cast a stone.
Show them how the pages change
When Christ begins to rearrange.

Clean pages, neatly written
Follow nothing hidden.
Circumstances still the same,
He changes the meaning of pain.

Now a story with purpose,
When from sin He turns us.
Pain still there, it hurts the same
But now being used for my gain.

Why is it that I only find strength
when there is nothing to fight against?

Why is it that love must
come after pay day?

Why is it that I only take to writing,
once I have realised I have no time for it?

Why is it I only value living,
once I feel dead inside?

Why is it that people only look at me,
when I've given up
and walked away?

Why is it that the words come to me,
only after silence has fallen?

Why is it that I find myself dreaming,
yet can never get any sleep?

Why is it, my darling,
that when you touch me,
you feel nothing at all?

You've made tulips grow under my bed
And in my head,
Where monsters used to hide.
You made roses grow in my broken heart
And violets in the bags under my eyes.
My tongue is now a bed of roses
Where your tongue longs to lie.
You've made flowers grow,
My dear,
In the darkest parts of my mind.