Rising Over Troubled Water


I shall rise over this troubled water and when I do,
The torrent of death shall set me free!
To fly like a bird over the mountain to see;
The birth of spring throughout the valley,
Where flowers dance with the soft breeze,
The lullaby of a bird tending to its young, and
The buzz of the honey bee, shall sweeten my senses.
And once again, I will survive the hell
That I was in, knee deep.

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