On endurance
It seems that there’s a leak
The place where my heart sits—
Monotonous and bleak,
A hole where nothing fits.
So turn the other cheek,
Even when blown to bits;
You’ll find what you may seek—
Just hold on to your wits.
It seems that there’s a leak
The place where my heart sits—
Monotonous and bleak,
A hole where nothing fits.
So turn the other cheek,
Even when blown to bits;
You’ll find what you may seek—
Just hold on to your wits.