In the time of my confession,
in the hour of my deepest need
When the pool of tears beneath my feet
flood every newborn seed
There's a dyin' voice within me
reaching out somewhere,
Toiling in the danger and in
the morals of despair.
...
In the fury of the moment
I can see the Master's hand
In every leaf that trembles,
in every grain of sand.
in the hour of my deepest need
When the pool of tears beneath my feet
flood every newborn seed
There's a dyin' voice within me
reaching out somewhere,
Toiling in the danger and in
the morals of despair.
...
In the fury of the moment
I can see the Master's hand
In every leaf that trembles,
in every grain of sand.
hello, doll. i don't comment much, but i had to give you this. always a pleasure reading your blog!
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