Sometimes I feel like an oreo Always caught in the middle of two great forces I'm haunted by decisions that I regret so much But I know that the choices I could have made Would still make me feel the same
Under the midday sun, we locked, we loaded, we mounted up in our Strykers, we knew prayer time was about to end, that the violent-fun was about ready to begin.
I pray to the morning light on sore knees asking for just an ounce of wisdom, a little strength to fight through these circadian days feeding the machine.