When will the truth strike a chord?
When will I learn from my past?
When will I be absolved of my mistakes?
Sinner running, running scared.
Chasing the past, looking for visions.
It all seems so surreal.
There are new gardens planted
Where devastation once resided.
Somebody tenderly cared for
The land they were given.
My life seems stolen, handed over
To somebody other than me.
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