Gris.

I haven’t done all I can, mother

But I’m tired as hell

There’s solitude in truth, mother

I’ve experienced it myself

You can’t run away from trouble

Trouble will find you anyway

So you sit and pray and pray and pray and pray

Until somebody hears you

It hearts, it burns, it aches

Like you have lost your self

You think

Good days are over

I’ve been dipped in doom

How have I survived anyway?

So you sit and pray, you pray and pray and pray

Until somebody misses you.

You say

Good days are truly over

Storm settles over my head

There seems to be no beam of lighting

However I’m wrong must of days.