Holding on for dear life ...so long to the years of "iphoneography." Maybe it is symbolic, almost 8 years on.
But still, this therapeutic salve will persist.
Rush to danger, wind up nowhere
Beaten, battered and cold
My children will live just to grow old
But if I sit here and weep
I'll be blown over by the slightest of breeze
And the weak need to be led
And the tender I'll carry to their bed
And it's a pale and cold affair
I'll be damned if I'll be found there