Master has a new slave.
For years I've went from one diamond to another with no penny for my services.
Dug holes and buried daffodils,
Dug holes and buried daffodils.
Carried by the spirit that shall give life to my children,
Children to children's children.
I've worked the way of a slave and never let my master carry a *****.
'though time told too many stories of the previous slaves,
I hoped mine was that of the history pages.
The blood drips on my cold knees as I crawl the dark for a meal,
She usually brings me something nice,
Oh master what are we having tonight?

The master's table should be kept clean at all times,
We don't want master eating dirt, alright?
Master is late for her food tonight,
It must be a busy night.
She usually utters of her unwell businesses, I believe she is tired.
I feel the chains on my feet being loose,
Master won't like this one bit.
The trees tell tales of the old berries,
And those that bury often get buried by no one.
Master smiles and tells me to run as she holds a gun counting to ten.
I'd run a bit more faster but my feet are swollen and needs healing.
As the trees come closer, darkness comes to sight and master smiles as she sends the new slave to bury my corpse.

One can assume that we all walk through life
Heading forward
Over coming our fears and getting stronger with every weakness we beat
That when life gets hard, we have over come because we obviously are made of tougher substance than they ever got a chance to know
That in our hearts we never meandered
That we were focused to the end
To the point that any sacrifice we made was never a question

We do face up
To the little dought in our hearts
To the little fear in our thoughts
To the past that we only can never forget
To the little unknown that is to come
To the fact that we are not actually in control
We face up
To the little uncertaininy that we might end up alone
To the need deep in our spirits to find ourselves
The assumption that we already have seen our deepest inside

Don't hold on too much
To the system that makes you stop
The planing that allows you to hide
The fear that keeps you from trying
The uncertainty of your deepest desire
The flaws that make you seem less
And the now that seems empty

Love
Shamie