Flaming sword through my bosom
What choice do I have?
Come trample on my blossoms
And the sapling that I crave.
My heart of porcelain
Is embroidered with cracks,
My hope lies bleeding, slain,
Lost, I'm tracing my tracks.
All the music tastes sour,
All food is in discord,
With every passing hour
I'm growing weary with the load.
But however sharp you be
You wont tear my soul.
My only sanity.
Flaming sword through my bosom.
Tichakunda Michael Majena (2011)
What choice do I have?
Come trample on my blossoms
And the sapling that I crave.
My heart of porcelain
Is embroidered with cracks,
My hope lies bleeding, slain,
Lost, I'm tracing my tracks.
All the music tastes sour,
All food is in discord,
With every passing hour
I'm growing weary with the load.
But however sharp you be
You wont tear my soul.
My only sanity.
Flaming sword through my bosom.
Tichakunda Michael Majena (2011)
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