Zoo worker displays painting by elephant.
Copyright 2004. All rights reserved.

In over my head 3
 
     I had a surprise visitor at work: Thomas Thomason. My secretary was off this afternoon so I was working the front desk. I immediately tensed up when he came in. I had never talked to him about the situation at church, and I didn't know how he would react to my attempt to defend him.
     I said hi. He said hi. He asked if he could talk to me a moment in private. I told him that I was the only one there and asked him to sit down
     "I was dropping my teacher's guide off and Pastor Bill told me that you had been in there to talk to him," Thomas said. "He told me that you were upset about the whole thing."
     Apparently that restriction that kept Pastor Bill from telling me what Thomas had said to him didn't keep him from telling Thomas what I had said. Lovely.
     "I ... well ... I didn't mean to be sticking my nose in where it didn't belong," I said. "If I upset you, then I'm sorry. I was only trying to help."
     "Who told you about it?" he asked.
     "I can't say," I said.
     "It's all over the church, isn't it?"
     It was more of a statement than a question, but I nodded.
     "I would rather people minded their own business!" he said, a bit loudly. "You shouldn't have known anything about it!" 
     He was right. His ex-wife Linda (as always, all the names are changed to protect the innocent and guilty alike) should have kept her mouth shut. None of it should have happened.
     "I know you were trying to help," he continued. "But you're just keeping the whole thing stirred up. I want people to stop talking about me. Do you understand? Please."
     "Yes," I said. "And I'm sorry that I've upset you. But what happened was wrong. I know that you want it to go away tomorrow, and I wish people's memories were that short, but they will talk about it. I know I didn't fix anything, but I wanted to try."
     "I want you to stop trying," he said.
     "I will," I said. "But answer me one question: Why do you want to stop trying? You can't put this back in the bottle. Nothing good will ever come of this if it's dropped now."
     "You don't understand," he said. "I've already got a couple of phone calls from people who think it would be better if I left town now. Of course, I am leaving as soon as my house sells, but they want me gone now."
     "Did they threaten you?" I said. "You could go to the police --"
     "You really don't get it, do you?" he said, sighing. "I won't go to the police. Not in this town. Look, I know this is hard for you to understand. You're Mister Clean Living, the Milk and Cookie Boy. You've probably don't even know how to be anything else. And that's good. There need to be people like you. More of them. Most people wouldn't have gone to bat for a gay person. But you can't win here. They might talk about how they support you to your face, but their whispers behind your back will kill you."
     "So ... you are gay now?" I asked.
     "Are you asking if I'm active?" he asked. "No. And I take whole responsibility for my breakup with Linda. I cheated on her. Vows are vows. I should have been honest from the very beginning and told her that I had these feelings for men. I lied, and she paid for it. She's still hurt by it. But if you're asking if I might be active in the future, I don't know, but I do know that I might. I want to be loved again in my life. And I think I can be Christian and be gay, too. I also think we shouldn't talk about this. I can tell I've shocked you."
     I didn't say anything. I didn't know what to say. What do you say to that?
     "So are you sorry that you defended me?" he asked.
     "No," I said. "No. It was still wrong what happened. They had no right to judge you." I shrugged. "Of course, I'm judging them now, which is also wrong. Frankly this whole Christian thing is very confusing. I can only keep trying."
     He smiled. "You do pretty good. Better than most. I do want you to drop it, but since I haven't said it, thank you for trying. If more people were like you, it'd be a better world, and maybe none of this would have ever happened. So thank you."
     He left on that.
     You'd think that maybe I'd be patting myself on my back right now, but you'd be wrong. Nothing got fixed. He lost his Sunday school class. His ex-wife got away with using the church to ruin his reputation. He's got people calling him to ask him to leave town. I've got people whispering about me since I defended him. It's pretty much a wash all around.
     So I guess I will stop talking about it and let it go. Sometimes the bad guys win. I can only say, though, that it was still wrong. And while those people won't forget, neither will I.

Copyright 2004. All rights reserved.

Shark jaw.
Copyright 2004. All rights reserved.

Lionfish.
Copyright 2004. All rights reserved.

Sand Terns.
Copyright 2004. All rights reserved.

Stork.
Copyright 2004. All rights reserved.

In over my head 2

     I called my pastor this morning about Thomas Thomason. Pastor Bill (as always, not his real name) could see me at 11. I arranged my lunch so that I could go in and see him. I got there a bit early. I was nervous and sick to my stomach, clutching my briefcase like it was a security blanket.
     We did a bit of small talk, and then he said he already knew what I was coming to talk about.
     I asked how.
     He told me that Roger (thank you, Roger, and I don't mean that) had called him last night and told him that I was upset. He went on to say that he couldn't discuss the matter since it involved private things between him and Thomason, but he could tell me a couple things.
     "First, I didn't ask Thomas to stop teaching," Pastor Bill said. "It was his decision. And second, he was already moving to the city. He's found a church up there, and he's just going to move his membership a bit early. He feels it's best for our church and best for him."
     He smiled. "I hope that makes you feel better. You need to trust your Christian brothers and not listen to gossip."
     I felt awkward and silly. "Well, I'm sorry I bothered you," I said. "I just didn't want him treated unfairly."
     "That reflects well on you," he said, rising. "Compassion is a wonderful thing." 
     I rose, and then I had a thought, and because my brain doesn't have a damper between it and my mouth, I said, "Did you hint?"
     "What?"
     "Did you hint that it would be better if he gave up the class and left?" I said.    
     "I'm sorry, but I can't discuss what we talked about," he said.
     "I'm not asking for details," I said. "I'm asking if you hinted. If you said that if the Lord was leading him to leave, you'd understand. Something like that."
     He had stopped smiling and was looking at me.
     "I can tell your mind is made up," he said. "Obviously you think I ran him off."
     "No, I'm just asking if you hinted," I said.
     "I'm sorry, but I think it would be better if we didn't talk about it," he said. "I can tell you're getting upset. I know I am. It's not pleasant to have my judgment questioned." 
     "I didn't realize that a minister was above being questioned," I said. "I'll remember in the future." I turned to leave, feeling sick and angry.
     "Why are you are so interested?" he asked. "Are you a friend ... of Thomas?"
     I honestly couldn't breathe for a moment. That 'friend' was so weighed with meaning, so full of implication. I don't think in my whole life, I've ever heard a word so heavy.
     For once my brain came through. "I barely know him," I said. "But I do know what's right and I know what's wrong. Apparently some people don't."
     I left.
     However, being me, I couldn't leave on a good exit line. I had forgot my briefcase so I had to go back in and get it, and then we talked for a few minutes, and he apologized and I apologized and then we ended up saying a short prayer together. Sometimes I just want to hit myself. Hard.
     Did I accomplish anything? Well, besides making the pastor mad? Not much.
     I always look at bad things and wonder what lesson I'm supposed to learn. And in this one, what did I learn?
     I have no idea. I won't blame God for this. It's not His fault that people choose to be mean-spirited and tiny, but I already know that.
     That a church makes mistakes? I knew that, too. Churches are made of people like me. Imperfect. Stupid sometimes. Mistakes are going to happen.
     That a gay person should keep his or her mouth shut in my town or pay for it? I knew that, too.
     Or do I just write this all off? Chalk one up for the bad guys and move on?
     Should I get off my soapbox and call it a night?
     I don't know.
     I just don't know.

Copyright 2004. All rights reserved, although I'd be surprised if anyone wanted to copy it anyway.

In over my head ... as usual

     Like most of the trouble I find myself in, this started because I couldn't keep my mouth shut.
     Here's the stit: I live in a small town, but attend a fairly large church. Over 700 people attend each Sunday morn. Last Sunday before service started, while I sat with a few friends of mine, a couple of them were talking about Thomas Thomason (not his real name for good reasons). Apparently the pastor was going to ask him to not teach Sunday school anymore. (I'm recreating this conversation as best I can. Bear with me.) 
     "Why?" I asked. 
     "Because he cheated on his wife," Lori (also not her real name, but I should give it) said. 
     I frowned. I didn't know Thomason very well -- mostly just saw him across the crowd -- but I didn't think he had a wife. A fact I mentioned. 
     "It was years ago," Lori said, grinning at Joan (another alias). They were obviously sharing a joke.  
     "Then I don't get it," I said. "Why would it matter now?" 
     "I shouldn't say," she said. 
     "Okay," I said. 
     "But I will," she said. "He cheated on her with --" dramatic pause "-- another man." 
     When I didn't respond, she giggled. My friend Roger (AKA as someone else) looked at me and tried to change the subject. 
     "I think we're going out to eat after church --" he started. 
     "So he's going to be asked to not teach anymore because he's gay?" I asked. 
     "Well, I don't think he's gay now," Lori said. "He's lived alone for a while." 
     Roger's wife Helen (also someone -- well, you know the drill by now) could also apparently read my face, because she jumped in with, "I think we could try out that new Chinese place." 
     "Then why is he being asked to not teach Sunday school?" I asked, perhaps a bit loudly. 
     Lori edged away from me. Joan's eyes got big. 
     "Well ... because ... you know ... he was with another man ..." 
     "And so he's tainted forever, is he?" I nodded. "I understand. So much for God's forgiveness. He cheated on his wife, and now we're going to punish him." 
     "It's not that," Joan said. "No one wants him to teach their sons." 
     "So he's a pedophile, too?" I asked. 
     "No," Joan said. "But he might encourage them to ... you know." 
     "Oh. So he's going to teach them to be gay," I said. "Let's see. He gets about 30 minutes a week with them. He must be one smooth talking fellow." 
     Lori sighed. "I shouldn't have said anything to you. We all know how you get on your soapbox. You're always sprouting off about something. If it's not the whales, then it's the forests. Don't you ever get tired?" 
     "That's going over the line," Roger said. 
     "Yes, I do get tired," I said evenly. "But then some narrow-minded, backward, knuckle-dragging, half-witted person gets me angry, and I perk right up!" 
     A lot of people were staring. Roger and Helen were embarrassed. Lori and Joan picked up their purses and moved further on down. I sat and fumed all through the service. 
     At lunch, Roger and Helen both said that they agreed with me, but also said that there was nothing anyone could do. Thomason's past was all over the church now. 
     "How did that happen?" I asked. 
     "His ex-wife came back to visit," Helen said. "She asked several people to pray for him and told them that she believed he was struggling with it again." 
     "That's clever," I said. "She gets to be pious and vicious at that same time." 
     Helen shrugged. "Maybe. Anyway, some parents approached our pastor and told him that they wouldn't allow their kids to attend any class he taught. I don't think our pastor has any choice. It's not Thomason's being asked to leave the church." 
     "It's wrong," I said. "It's flat out wrong. It's against everything the church is supposed to be. Forgiveness. Acceptance." 
     "If you had kids, you might think differently," Roger said. "I wouldn't want my children exposed to a gay teacher." 
     "He's not teaching gayness," I said. "He's teaching Sunday school." 
     "Yeah, but they might look up to him," Roger said. "They might think it was okay since someone they respected was gay." 
     "How would they know?" I said. "Is he wearing a button that says, 'I'm gay and I'm proud'?" 
     "Their parents know," Helen said. "And kids hear everything."
     "Do we seriously believe that all a kid needs to be gay is to have a gay teacher?" I asked.
     "It has to do with influences," Roger said. "Teachers influence kids. In this day and age, parents have to be careful."
     "Then they should drop cable television and lock their kids up in a cave 'cause there are a lot more things influencing their kids than a man who's got 30 minutes a week with them!"
     Helen changed the subject then, and I let her. Didn't seem much point in continuing the conversation. But I knew as well as they did that Thomason wouldn't stay in the church now. Since I am usually the last person in the church to hear any news, it was a good bet that everyone knew. Too many people would snub him. Oh, a lot of them would be subtle. A quick turn of a shoulder. A lack of invitations to dinner or to golf. No requests for him to attend the men's prayer breakfast. He'd get the message and get it quick if he hadn't already.
     Monday afternoon, though, I was surprised when Roger dropped by my office.
     After a bit of talk, he got to the point.
     "I just thought you should know that people are talking about you," he said. "No one believes it who knows you, but I thought you should know what they are saying."
     If I had half the brains that God gave gravel, I wouldn't have let him continue. Nothing good ever comes out of hearing what people are saying about you. I know that. I know that. 
     "What are they saying?" I asked.
     "Well ... and I know this isn't right ... but they're saying you might be gay," he said. "Of couse, Helen and I are letting them know you're not, but you should be aware of it."
     "And why do they think I'd gay?" I asked, already knowing the answer. "Simply because I thought it was wrong for Thomason to be asked to stop teaching Sunday school."
     Roger nodded. "You're not married. I mean, you date a lot, but people wonder about it."
     "Do they?" I snapped. "Perhaps I should have sex with my next girlfriend on their front porch. Or start my own porn site. I'm not gay, but it wouldn't be any of their business if I were."
     "I know, I know," Roger said. "I'm on your side. And this will all blow over. But maybe ... you should cool it. A bit."
     "Cool it?" I felt sick.
     "Not be so ... ah ... loud about Thomason," Roger said. "You don't even know him. You don't have to stand up for him."
     I sat there for a long time.
     "If I don't, who will?" I said finally.
     "You can't do anything to help him," Roger said. "The pastor's already asked him."
     "Oh?"
     "He took it well. Told the pastor he understood. But he's not going to attend there anymore," Roger said. "He'll probably be happier somewhere else anyway."
     "Yeah."
     "Are you okay?"
     I nodded and managed a smile. He stayed for a few more minutes and then left.
     It's Tuesday. I'm sure they're still probably talking. Those who talk and those who listen. It would be easy to turn this into some sort of rant against churches in general and that one in particular. I hear that lot from people who tell me that they are done with church and God because so-and-so is a hypocrite or such-and-such happened. (Frankly, I get tired of hearing it and find myself impatient with those telling me about it. Repeat after me: "Churches are filled with people. People make mistakes. People make mistakes everywhere. Churches are no different. Christians are not perfect people. They're just people trying to get better. I should give them a break because I'm not perfect, either.") It would be easy to condemn the pastor and those parents. To dismiss them as bigots and stupid.
     But they're not. I know several of them. They work in local charities. Take food to the elderly. Take Scouts on camping trips. They give to the United Way. They participate in Walk-A-Thons. They love their kids. They work hard jobs for not enough pay. They struggle financially, but still give to the church and to missions. To dismiss them so casually is to be guilty of what they have done to Thomason.
     I could talk to them. Some of them would listen. But I wonder what the point would be. I doubt I would change anyone's mind. And then there's the cost to me. I work in this small town and to be considered gay is a quick way to lose sales and friends. (Listen to my cowardice talking. Listen to my ethics and morals scurry away.)
     So what do I do? Do I stand by and let injustice happen without raising my voice? If I do nothing, am I not just as guilty?
     I thought as I typed this that I would come to some sort of conclusion, but I don't have one. I don't know what to do. But I will do something. Maybe it will be small and maybe it will be ineffective, but I will make the gesture. If only for this selfish reason: Someday I might need someone to stand up for me.

Copyright 2004. All rights reserved.

Flamingos.
Copyright 2004. All rights reserved.

Galapagos tortoise.
Copyright 2004. All rights reserved.

Baby pygmy hippo on shore and mother in water.
Copyright 2004. All rights reserved.

Baby pygmy hippo.
Copyright 2004. All rights reserved.

Snowy Range Mountains, Wyoming. Copyright 2004 K.C. All rights reserved. Used by permission.

I think over again
my small adventures, my fears
-- those small ones
that seemed so big --
and all the vital things
I had to get and to reach.
Yet there is only one great thing
-- the only thing --
to live to see
the great day that dawns and
the light that fills the world.
-Eskimo song

Dismissal

You sit there calmly.
You brush aside anyone
that doesn't meet your approval
with cold disregard.

I can see your
youthful, graceful body
in a royal robe
with a jeweled crown
on your black silk hair.

Queen of Hearts? No!
Queen of Diamonds? Maybe.
Queen of Spades? Surely.

But you're not a queen.
Actually you're not really anything.
I can't imagine why I
thought otherwise.

Copyright 2004. All rights reserved.

Orith's Lament

Orith was a young man, dreamer, singer
of things that were not and could not be.
He dreamed of world beyond worlds,
and the stars laughed in his dreams.
But only the dull survive.
Dreamers are, of necessity, not dull.

And Orith sang,
"Dreams could be and we could love.
Must we lose it behind walls
that slowly cloak
hope?"

Dreamers make a world jealous, hateful,
deadly
in envying those who make not into become.
They drowned Orith in poverty and strife and hard living
that allowed no singing and crushed every dream.
When they were done,
they laid Orith at rest,
a white lily on his chest.

Orith never sang again
in this world
but on certain nights
I am told
you can hear him.

Copyright 2004. All rights reserved.

A Strange Thought

Often what I see
and what I believe
are universes apart.
And I yell that
it should fit.

Alternating between hope
and despair, the thought
comes to me:
Wouldn't it be funny if --

No, probably not.

Copyright 2004. All rights reserved.

Paris Church. Copyright 2004 JR. All rights reserved. Used by permission. 

2004 New York Marathon. I'm the 45th person from the left and 16th down ... 

Paris at night. Copyright 2004 JR. All rights reserved. Used by permission. 

Stuffed Ram at Bass Pro Shop. Copyright 2004. All rights reserved. 

Stuffed Polar Bear at Bass Pro Shop. Copyright 2004. All rights reserved. 

"I learned that it is the weak who are cruel, and that gentleness is to be expected only from the strong."
-Leo Rosten

Our Flag ... Long May It Wave 

The Star Spangled Banner
By Francis Scott Key

Oh, say can you see, by the dawn's early light,
What so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last gleaming?
Whose broad stripes and bright stars, through the perilous fight,
O'er the ramparts we watched, were so gallantly streaming?
And the rockets' red glare, the bombs bursting in air,
Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there.
O say, does that star-spangled banner yet wave
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave?

On the shore, dimly seen through the mists of the deep,
Where the foe's haughty host in dread silence reposes,
What is that which the breeze, o'er the towering steep,
As it fitfully blows, now conceals, now discloses?
Now it catches the gleam of the morning's first beam,
In full glory reflected now shines on the stream:
'Tis the star-spangled banner! O long may it wave
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave.

And where is that band who so vauntingly swore
That the havoc of war and the battle's confusion
A home and a country should leave us no more?
Their blood has wiped out their foul footstep's pollution.
No refuge could save the hireling and slave
From the terror of flight, or the gloom of the grave:
And the star-spangled banner in triumph doth wave
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave.

Oh! thus be it ever, when freemen shall stand
Between their loved homes and the war's desolation!
Blest with victory and peace, may the heaven-rescued land
Praise the Power that hath made and preserved us a nation.
Then conquer we must, for our cause it is just,
And this be our motto: "In God is our trust."
And the star-spangled banner forever shall wave
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave!

Friendly dog. Copyright 2004. All rights reserved. 

"If a nation expects to be ignorant and free in a state of civilization, it expects what never was and never will be."
-Thomas Jefferson

Green roof. Copyright 2004. All rights reserved. 

"It is not the critic who counts ... not the man who points out how the strong man stumbled, or where the doer of deeds could have done better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena; whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs and comes short again and again; who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotions and spends himself in a worthy course; who, at the best, knows in the end the triumph of great achievement, and who, at worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly; so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who know neither victory or defeat."
-Theodore Roosevelt

More spring flowers. Copyright 2004. All rights reserved. 

"Some things never change. Others always do. The trick is learning which ones are which."
-Manjarous from Dragons Gather

Marigold. Copyright 2004. All rights reserved. 

Spring flower. Copyright 2004. All rights reserved. 

Words For The Ending

When everything's made to be broken,
when all we can do is bend,
when all we have is this moment,
I want it to never end.

When darkness shuts around us,
when friends are far and few,
when all we own is burning,
I want to be here with you.

In these final moments,
we watch the nations fall.
Streets are swollen with horror,
and nobody comes when we call.

Hold me now as I hold you
as everything falls apart.
Together we'll be invincible.
We build of our lives a new start

Copyright 2004. All rights reserved.

Toucan at Dallas Aquarium. Copyright 2004. All rights reserved. 

Chimney Rock. Copyright 2004 CB. All rights reserved. 

How It Works

If you fall into me,
I'll fall into you.
If you turn to me,
I'll turn to you.
If you speak to me,
I'll speak to you.
If you love me,
I'll love you.
But send me away,
and I won't be back.

Copyright 2004. All rights reserved.

Flowers at the Seattle market. Copyright 2004 BJO. All rights reserved.  

Mimosa blossom. Copyright 2004. All rights reserved. 

Bird Condo. Copyright 2004. All rights reserved. 

Another Time

We walked down a street
don't remember exactly where
maybe on Elm or Oak
maybe we wanted coffee
from the Java Emporium
doesn't matter I guess

But we sauntered on
you by me hand in hand
like some movie cliche
you were talking about
something Nancy had said
I laughed at how you put it

I saw our reflection in
the plate glass front of
Thompson's Appliance and TV
I marveled at that perfect
moment where together
was more than you and me

Do you remember?

Copyright 2004. All rights reserved.

Undertow

I sink beneath your waves
into indigo wonder
down where maps end
beyond safety limits

Above the sun still shines
against a pale blue sky
the boat circles aimlessly
divers split the water

But you lead on, diamond
scales sparkle in wan light
smile a flash of white
webbed hand cool in mine

And now you and I dwell
in the lovely deep dark
slow dancing as we flow
in love's irresistible undertow

Copyright 2004. All rights reserved.


Coral reef off the west end of Rotan, Honduras. Copyright 2004 K.B. All rights reserved. Used by permission. 

Places I'd Rather Be

On a beach --
No, on a beach with white sand --
Wait, on a beach with white sand and the only sound the ocean --
Hey, on a beach with white sand and the only sound the ocean and a tall cold fruity umbrellaed drink in my hand --
Yes, on a beach with white sand and the only sound the ocean and a tall cold fruity umbrellaed drink in my hand as I lounge in the shade beneath palm trees and you walk toward me, smiling, the sun glistening on your wet skin as you rise out of the waves ...

In your arms.

Copyright 2004. All rights reserved.

"Nothing can bring you peace but yourself."
-Ralph Waldo Emerson

"The first and greatest commandment is, Don't let them scare you."
-Elmer Davis

"I keep my friends as misers do their treasure, because, of all the things granted us by wisdom, none is greater or better than friendship."
-Pietro Aretino

"You must be the change you wish to see in the world."
-Mahatma Ghandi

Stained Glass Window, Paris. Copyright 2004. All rights reserved. 

"Your body is the baggage you must carry through life. The more excess the baggage, the shorter the trip."
-Arnold H. Glasgow

Storm Clouds. Copyright 2004. All rights reserved.  

Spring Iris. Copyright 2004. All rights reserved. 

"The tragedy in life doesn't lie in not reaching your goal. The tragedy lies in having no goal to reach."
-Benjamin Mays

Hush

This is the story
you're not supposed to tell
the old twisted story
you're not supposed to know
dirty family secrets
not seen in scrapbooks

Blush over bruises
glasses cover blackeyes
Shame folded into her soul

No nightlight in dark room
hands tearing away his breath
and his little boy clothes

Finger down her throat
can't get it all out
can't be perfect

Always outside looking in
never more than the brunt
cold razor on wrists

Hospital bed that they whisper
he deserves for loving those
who should be shunned

Wrong skin color can't change
wrong accent can't hide
wrong life can't live

These are the stories
that don't get told
the old tired stories
that no one wants to hear
Don't look back
let your tongue be silent

Don't make waves
Don't rock the boat
Don't embarrass us

Get on with your life
Get over it
Get out

Forget what
you can't change
Don't remember
what's past
Bury the words
burning in your throat

These are the stories
that sometimes get told
and the world ends
and we all fall down
but we get up --

we get up
and fly into the sky

Copyright 2004. All rights reserved.

"One should never direct people towards happiness, because happiness too is an idol of the market-place. One should direct them towards mutual affection. A beast gnawing at its prey can be happy too, but only human beings can feel affection for each other, and this is the highest achievement they can aspire to."
-Alexander Solzhenitsyn

"Wishes come true, not free."
-From Into the Woods

"Let the world know you as you are, not as you think you should be, because sooner or later, if you are posing, you will forget the pose, and then where are you?"
-Fanny Brice

"You are the music while the music lasts."
-T. S. Eliot

The Price

No one promised you anything
You chose to love
You chose to give yourself away
You chose to surrender all

This is the price
Nothing is ever free

We all pay in blood
Every tear is ours
Every guilt forged by our choice
Every muffled cry ours alone

This is the price
Nothing is ever free

We all go to sleep and wake
Each morning another chance
Each day another joy or sorrow
Each night falls into dreams

This is the price
This is the price
This is the price
of being alive

Nothing is ever free

Copyright 2004. All rights reserved.