i rouse the hard luck of my youth
inside my mind then paint it here
for all that i now understand
it seems to me that love is rare
the days have come and surely gone
when i was but a little boy
my world was rough and filled with blame
for everything within that void
no sympathy was for me then
no solitude for me to hide
my youth was but a broken dream
by which a tearful lullaby
was sung to calm my weariness
and yet it failed to sooth my heart
my angels could not guide me from
the road on which my soul embarked
with every day and every night
i whispered such a hopeful prayer
then closed my eyes to dream again
into a place of no despair
inside my mind then paint it here
for all that i now understand
it seems to me that love is rare
the days have come and surely gone
when i was but a little boy
my world was rough and filled with blame
for everything within that void
no sympathy was for me then
no solitude for me to hide
my youth was but a broken dream
by which a tearful lullaby
was sung to calm my weariness
and yet it failed to sooth my heart
my angels could not guide me from
the road on which my soul embarked
with every day and every night
i whispered such a hopeful prayer
then closed my eyes to dream again
into a place of no despair
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