Mama, I got the fear,
just a little nagging thorn
in my mind...a demon playing
a horrendous instrument
to a dirge about failure,
but I laugh, because I have you mama...
and if father won't acknowledge me,
we will move on without him,
smokestack lightning...
just a little nagging thorn
in my mind...
the demon continues to play,
and even if he has no power here,
the music does it's job
and produces melancholy, let it come...
occult children in the dawn of the holy,
I remember who I am and the melancholy flees,
the sadness now a celebration, the fear a memory,
What if everything goes right?
Bursts forth from my light.
The fear running scared now,
as I break on through to the other side...
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