The wounds of life make us what we are
No more the innocent needy child
But now the wary independent soul
Adulthood is lonely and we cry out
To be loved, to have a haven
For our childhood soul.
The wounds of life make us what we are
No more the innocent needy child
But now the wary independent soul
Adulthood is lonely and we cry out
To be loved, to have a haven
For our childhood soul.