Lletres:
Issakar The Times

A precious little girl stood outside her parent's door She could not understand why they fought so much and swore She closed her eyes and prayed, she

Guilty as charged Convicted and framed The spear in Your side Was marked with my name Who am I to stand in Your presence Stripped of my innocence Who

Like a butterfly up in the air She's takin' me somewhere new Everytime she looks at me With those eyes so blue Like a rocket shooting up to the sky

I wake up in the middle of the night, terrified that maybe you're not real. I'm frightened by the very thought, that you just might be only in my mind