Holding On
Maybe there's no saving you anymore
Maybe those beads are as phony
as a three dollar bill
Your caretaker, his name is Emmanuel,
He takes your tray.
While the wind whips
Frantic whisps of my hair
And open goes the door
I feel so alive
this moment I am
God.
But a god that can't save
And can't seem to speak.
At least you can see this one
And feel this warm hand in yours.