There are songs I will never choose to sing
Words that echo the halls inside my chest
Scars made monument to pain of the past

Most days begin with quiet mornings
The air rising to a slow boil by noon
Sweat tracing the curves of my spine
Like fingers of forgotten lovers

Storms draw near over crashing tides
Racing with the wind as if they had a destination
Beauty and sorrow thick and heavy
Like roses laid on cherry caskets

I will sing songs of forgiveness
To all the men I once was
Remember the chains they carried
And the cruelness in their hearts