|Explain it to me as if i were six years old. |
Life drifts by moving in cartwheels and tumbles sideways and fowards, but hardly ever backwards. So where am I going? It can't be explained or worked out or even conquered. It just is.
Look after the childern, they are the only way out of this mess, this world where self-confessed murderers walk the streets ready, waiting for the amunition to return, waiting for their chance to sin again.
I'm not six years old, and not willing to give in to the atrocity. Just waiting for the chance to be free in my soul. It's my life.