Art House

Never Yet…

With all my venial sins, I remain untainted,
Despite my exposure I somehow remain pure,
How is it that the proverbial black sheep is but a lamb brought to slaughter?
How could it be that a life fit for angels was a life for me?

The baggage of a life once lived
Falls to pieces on the stone floor
The lies in truth of what I not prepared for
Protected by the truth within the lies
Not what my heart could comprehend

I shed the weight and move along
One soul, untainted
I write the verses of this song
One heart, pure

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