Dear, Diary, Carry on my wayward son, there'll be peace when you are done. Lay your weary head to rest, don't you cry no more.
Once I rose above the noise and confusion, just to get a glimpse beyond this illusion, I was soaring ever higher but I flew too high. Though my eyes could see I still was a blind man. Though my mind could think I still was a mad man. I hear the voices when in dreaming. I can here them say: "Carry on my wayward son, there'll be peace when you are done. Lay your weary head to rest, don't you cry no more."
Masquerading as a man with a reason, my charade is the event of the season. And if I claim to be a wise man, it surely means that I don't know. All the stormy seas of looming emotion, tossed about out like a ship on the ocean. I set a course for winds of fortune, but j hear he voices say: "Carry on my wayward son, there'll be peace when you are done. Lay your weary head to rest, don't you cry no more!" Oh!!
Carry on!! You will always remember. Carry on like an equal descender!! Surely Heaven waits for you.
Carry on my wayward son, there'll be peace when you are done. Lay your weary head to rest, don't you cry, Dont you cry no more...
YOU ARE READING
Dear Diary
RandomThere's a lot of stuff going on in my heart and soul . . . And I'd like to present them to you. Enjoy v.v
