17 Summers

I climbed this hill to build you up
They say no man is an island
With wood and rocks I built this hut
And we ate all our meals inside it
If poor truth be our only love
Then where will lies find me
For wood and rocks are not enough
With out you nothing can build it up
No, no
No expectations
No, no
No expectations
No, no
No expectations
No, no
No expectations
Seventeen summers since the nation died in my clutch
And she swore I can outrun your guidance and love
Peace is peace and blood is blood
'Tis rare the twain shall meet just once
The world has wisdom but never enough
I’m a dull image of my father’s son
My weak hands can’t mend our hearts
And yours can tear the world apart
God give me the strength to live as I please
With the windows open, and my face in the breeze
Whither thou may go
I will follow