Outside my Wooden Door
The numbers hit me square crashing thunder at my shore
Left my careful words empty in the space of hunger's score
Catching in my throat enough to suffocate an impotent roar
As another stone turns to dust outside my wooden door
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One point six million small stalwarts inured a cherubic corp
Downcast eyes hide their need now too blinding to explore
Face the pale ghost of Christmas to slip on translucent lore
As another stone turns to dust outside my wooden door
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Heaven steps aside as you traverse 'cross hell's bleak moor
Passed by a candle in the glass while the wicked wind you wore
The prayer you once relied on now sits too frozen to implore
As another stone turns to dust outside my wooden door
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Linger in the walkway with a silent secret aching you ignore
But hunger has a language that speaks to a childlike core
Find hope in a trip down the aisles of a weary Walmart store
As another stone turns to dust outside my wooden door
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Bitter the taste that one child knows the pain of hunger's bore
Or roams the street without a place to lay his dreams ashore
While I thaw the prayers I'd put away a million miles before
As another stone turns to dust outside my wooden door
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