SIGN OF THE TIMES
Weaving A new fate
but I found out to late
He's your new soul-mate
the reason for all your hate
You hear the knocking at your door
could it be A lion's roar
You ask god to make for sure
An he blessed you with wings to soar
He turns to ash it starts to pour
I'm thankful for serenity
Even if its the death of me
Only few can see
our true reality
The wicked hold some kind of key
I'm living life to die
And all you hear are evil lies
Are your neck the rope he ties
Getting off on your cries
Its okay my soul will rise
Through god you shall have no fear
We all know the end is near
but you have not a tear
Into the darkness you peer
But your seed you hold dear
Murdered with a treasured syth
Do you have eternal life
Cut the tension with a knife
Asking god to help me see
That your completely wrong
He tells me ill be lost at sea
With all the other deities
ease the pain help me please
the spells are reversible
Don't take his word so personal
ANYONE, can repent
even an evil serpent
God had his angels sent
In the darkness there is light
left is wrong
Good is right
Pluck the evil from our sight
Cause we may die tonight
never to late to break the chain
Even with a lions mane
Its not pumping through your veins
believe me son your not insane
When you die God can seize the rain
I'm TRYING TO SHOW YOU WHAT IS REAL
Don't you know our God can heal
Finally you can break the seal
With the devil you made a deal
You weren't made to kill
seek salvation!
GET DOWN AND KNEEL
--- On Sat, 12/15/12, Jean Sharp <jcsharp@ptsi.net> wrote:
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Tuesday, March 15, 2016
"Hear The Angles Sing"
Deanna Nicole Trammel. My great niece . I'm posting a poem she told me she wrote. I hope she wasn't kidding me, because I have published it on the internet under her name. She was only 15 at the time she wrote this poem. I was somewhat in disbelief. If anyone can correct me on the validity of this poem please let me know. I was alarmed about her mental condition when she told me she wrote it. I called her, and she assured me it was her own work. I am re-posting it along with a blog I wrote at the time I published the poem. This is all too fresh in my mind. Deanna is a special girl, and is now married and has a little boy two years old.
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