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The barer come around the bend
Carries it with out streched hands
Those who are able, run away
Those like me are forced to stay
To each victim, the barer gives
Something different, with that they shall live
Horror to one, Suffering to another
Grief to a child, Sorrow to a mother
Each who is gifted often cires
"Why is it me that get this prize"?
They cry about what they recive
but no pain they carry, compares to me
For when the barer reached my door
I had already known what he had in store
He opened his hands, as I looked above
And down it came. He gave me love.
People that hear think that is great
I got off easy while they feel the weight
But that is untrue, there's fact they know not of
That there is nothing more pianful than this thing called love.
