Poem -

Talking to Saints

Talking to Saints

Remember that one starry night I sat all by my lonely in the park 

Surrounded by fiends surrounded by dreams talking to saints living on prayer say me a dream Mr joyous maker 

Walking by sleepy town clocks in the dark , yet somebody must of left the light on 

She pulled me in this sinners heart surrounded by hope surrounded by heart men of love present and apart 

The church pews were lonely so I spoke to the cross after hours   Hope the father hears me prayers and sinners make up for the thoughtless hours 

And you might one day be talking to Saints   And you might one day be walking with fiends    You might one day see how it all loses its face you might one day finally come free from this maze    You might one day be thanking these saints 

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