First Gong Vol. 8: Thrust FIRST GONG 8 THRUST | Seite 255

RAISED - Chisom
We were raised with our heads bowed
Our shoulders bowed with the weight of poverty
We were bred in the arms of mediocrity
We were kneaded like dough for the oven
And dough we were, see now we rise.
We rise from the heat of negative words
Flung at our souls
Raised, above great potentials of sadness
We now go through the road, laid by hope
Go past hopelessness on the side road where it lays
Raised; our heads high by the strength of faith
And dare fate to put us down again
Chisom
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