Letras
I've been kneeling in the soil
My bones are weary of the toil
My knees are scarred from thorns that grow
Around the vines and seeds I sow
I wish to rest my weary head
Upon this green and loamy bed
Questions now flow through my mind
I doubt the gardener's design
Whyfor do the plants grow tall?
If not for my help, they would fall
A guiding hand to raise up strong
To nurture, and to praise in song