In this grave hour, I have composed our final song: the last words of our love lost. I called your hands home for years on end. It's become distant and I hate my helpless defiance. You have no problem finding me, although you only commit unintentionally. I do it for the Lord, I do it for Chicago. I once lived for you, and I've never ever been so wrong. We keep building to find no release.
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Mark Bishop Where Do Blessings Come From? [Sonlite]
