Tortured By The Rose

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Tortured by the best things
that give life but they sting
I keep my Savior close to me
I hear the choir it does sing.

My deviant ways are closed
as he the devil tried propose
I took my hand in faith sin
fell from Christ is my rose.

Tell me the truth is a lie I
keep my tongue tied in a vice.
Break do men and laughter
the tongue can break the ice.

Fortunate to take this weak
poor man I can be so meek.
Sometimes I have it poor I do
have at times my poor weeks.

Weeks turn into months,
years yes they come dissapear.
Yet I turn to myself again
discover the rose to fight fear.

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