Bury Your Worries and Toes in the Sand

There's a man at the corner bar sitting hands clenched, holding tightly to his hat so it wont blow away..... He's with a girl who has stuffed her hands in her pockets, holding tightly to her money so she won't blow it all on another addiction. It really is all the same. Every single day.

When he gets home from work he'll find his children already in bed without seeing his face today. And the girl with empty pockets, she has spent all of her money again. She's wondering why she even owns a wallet.

She is the L and he is the O for us, Liars Out there, and she is the V and he is the E for the Violence in Everyone. We might spell you, but we are nothing like you.

His kids have said their prayers and are sound asleep... visions of being all grown up with children of their own have them swearing that they will never wear the same hat size that their father wears. And the girl, now a woman... she says that she's happy and thanks god for jewelry and single millionaires.

She is the H and he is the O for us, Humble Orphans. She's the S and he is the T, as they are Starving to Trust. And they both are the A and the G. Absent from God. The rest of us, we're just the E..... the Emptiness they feel, from pockets to hearts.

We might spell you, but we are nothing like you. We have all either fallen in, or been taken.