I don't give a damn. How it's supposed to be. That might work for you. It don't work for me. . You write your truth. And I'll write mine. One man's ceilings.
I was a little boy of 9 years old. The whole world in his hands. Trying to toss that ball across the yard. A game of catch with my old man. He would always say I'm sorry.
I have run from the truth. Since the days of my mispent youth. I was hungry for kindness. I was lost in life's blindless. When you're born without wings.