Thy, is old for your own. A world that starts of as a field of grey-tone. But a white blanket that is unwritten. Nothing to be proud of, nothing to regret.
Thy love is what we believe. It is what footsteps were in front of us, are alongside us and ultimately will be behind us. It's their distance that will time tell.
Jesus is a small town girl, those that we don't adore, but who's presence we lovingly abore. one who's footsteps stay a mystery, so time can't just (kiss and) tell more.
Walk with feet sore. The field of white is far, the walk is cold, but the possibilities are what we make, from walking over this water, this snow.
Walk with feet sore. The field of white is far, the walk is cold, but the possibilities are what we make, from walking over this water, this snow.
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