It’s starts with the beginning of each new day,
The fiery words that come my way.
I ask, “What is it that I’ve done?”
I was just having fun.
But then the words lash out so hot,
Keeping me glued to the spot.
Trying to keep my head up high,
Trying hard not to cry.
The tears that come are oh so hot,
I have nothing with which to blot,
The tears racing down my face,
Wishing I were in another place.
I dream of the day that I run away,
But have no other place to stay.
I look at buildings, falling down,
And tell myself I’d not be found.
But then I think of rain and cold,
Will this last until I’m old?
In the end I stay each day,
Wondering what I shouldn’t say.
– van –