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Tender young flower grown up in my garden
And I pray ever day that your heart will not harden
A cynic's song surrounding you on each and every street
At the altar in the bar in the faces you will greet
A gift of something so profound straining all these words
A gift of something so astounding dying to be heard
Bone of my bone you are flesh of my flesh
Blood of my blood you are breath of my breath
You are my pride child and yes you are my crown
How to keep the darkness from dragging you down
I feel the weight of what I am and what I am not yet
I'd like to pass on something besides all these deficits
Don't lose your guns
