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(Lyrics
by Curt W. Sauer & Shawn Bacote)
She
sits and cries,
Another
day passes by,
Reliving
again
The
day her innocence bled,
Told
to hush as she died.
Now
years gone by,
Still
she clutches to that stain.
No
cure born of man can erase the pain.
Eventually,
it returns. For when again re-sewn,
the pieces of her life this too was also
Woven.
Woven.
Woven.
Her
children’s eyes
Reflect
a pleading uncertainty.
“Mama,
will this one stay and finally be our Daddy”?
The
more she’s moving,
The
faster she seems to sink.
But
she can’t stop searching the mist
For
that ghost called serenity.
She’s
got to find it someday.
It
always seems just not too far away,
Just
out of reach of her bonds,
Into
which her destiny seems to be eternally
Woven.
Woven.
Woven.
She
serves so many masters.
Sought
answers from pimps and pastors.
Bruised
and scarred from jibes and laughter,
Not
truly sure just what it is she’s after.
She’s
seen all the signs, and yet she seeks,
Passing
sanctuary to meet deceit.
What
will you say when she you meet?
One
who knows not truly to whom her soul’s peace waits to be
Woven.
Woven.
Woven.
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