There is a song that's hard to sing
Of difficulties lamenting.
When nothing seems to go your way,
Though search success both night and day.
For weep at night when all asleep
And reap not from thy worries deep.
Of joy and gladness you're bereft,
And thankfulness, you've nothing left,
Yet the ability to pull self up
Comes soley from drinking of the cup,
Of hope, not the literal trope;
A rope offering escape from mope
Lasting flame of hope flickers strong,
And is the genesis of this song.
The lyrics of which must consist,
Reasons enough that must persist.
To find and still bring to thy mind,
The kind of mirth of sorrows blind.
Remember not all days are dark;
Again your joy will sing like lark.
And lift your eyes from miry clay,
To give you strength for 'nother day.
Sing love, soaring on wings of dove
Above this lament you speak of.
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