I was chosen
Plucked by a blind hand,
From the garden of life
Yet here I stand
Stung by the thorn
The poison and the blood
And I wonder,
about life
And I guess,
That this is love
And I know as if repeating
That I will bend and tilt over
But now, my stem is strong and guarded
Protecting the pollen I believe is inside
And I live,
By luck
And I'll die,
with myself
And what I can't see with my eye,
I hold by the light of faith
