Tekst:
Lex Zaleta Small Traces Of Truth

The great gray sky loomed large overhead; The late Jay Fry lay cold and dead. Fate had lingered and then fled; Fortune nodded, then turned and sped To

Things always came easy, Or they didn't come at all. Life was bright and breezy, Endless summer; never fall. Now, I'm in the old folks' choir, A bald

I walk a time upon this earth, Caught here between a painful birth And a most unpleasant death. I cannot, will not charge ahead, Cannot choose to retreat

The April fool is exhausted After a thirty-one day March. His extremities are frosted, His bones ache, and his throat is parched. He sure has seen much

I know how you feel; I can see your pain. I heard your appeal, Crying in the rain. I can help you heal; Help you walk again. I know how you feel. Did

The believers' last stand begins; They're stacking Bible upon Bible, Using that old reliable As they try to sandbag sin. The floodwaters are rising;