Where is it when you think you need it so?
Where is the truth in love?
And why does it seem so far from heaven above?
The answers, some I know
But life lived tells me I don’t
The life I live tells me lies
And I cannot be free until they die
What is right in a world of pain?
(Comfort from our sorrows and our shame)
What could be wrong with love so true?
What, besides the timing and the with whom?
--Just a whim there. Ghost Writing from my soul I suppose.