| The snakes and arrows a child is heir to
|
| Are enough to leave a thousand cuts
|
| We build our defenses, a place of safety
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| And leave the darker places unexplored
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| Sometimes the fortress is too strong
|
| Or the love is too weak
|
| What should have been our armor
|
| Becomes a sharp and angry sword
|
| Our better natures seek elevation
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| A refuge for the coming night
|
| No one gets to their heaven without a fight
|
| No one
|
| We hold beliefs as a consolation
|
| A way to take us out of ourselves
|
| Meditation or medication
|
| A comfort or a promised reward
|
| Sometimes the spirit is too strong
|
| Or the flesh is too weak
|
| Sometimes the need is just too great
|
| For the solace we seek
|
| The suit of shining armor
|
| Becomes a keen and bloody sword
|
| No one gets to their heaven without a fight
|
| A refuge for the coming night
|
| A future of eternal light
|
| No one gets to their heaven without a fight
|
| No one
|
| Confused alarms of struggle and flight
|
| Blood is drained of color
|
| By the flashes of artillery light
|
| No one gets to their heaven without a fight
|
| The battle flags are flown
|
| At the feet of a god unknown
|
| No one gets to their heaven, heaven
|
| No one gets to their heaven without a fight
|
| Sometimes the damage is too great
|
| Or the will is too weak
|
| What should have been our armor
|
| Becomes a sharp and burning sword
|
| No one gets to their heaven without a fight
|
| A refuge for the coming night
|
| A future of eternal light
|
| No one gets to their heaven without a fight
|
| No one
|
| No one gets to their heaven without a fight |