On this rock, of burnin' love, the children are captives, the cannot be dubs. They frolic naked, through the fields, on and on, their minds don't yield. Their hair it flutters, in the wind, through the mist, their bodies swim. Down the mountain, they will run. Over the dale, their faces sunned. By the river, and to the trees, their feet keep moving, kicking the leaves. Now they're safe, away from home, up to god, their souls are thrown. So, on this rock of burnin' love, I ask you this, who is above?
i think i wrote that about 6 years ago i had forgot about it untill i recently found my journal its funny ive been writing for a fairly long time and this was prolly one of the 1st 10 i wrote and is absolutely the best
