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It was half past 3 am on Sunday night
down on Hawthrone st
I was keeping to the light
just workin’ the old beat
Not lookin’ for a fight
only a fix for the long night
He came for me, all what was left
I am not one who prays
maybe it started as theft
but it didn’t end that way
I remember that I wept
in the few moments that I’ve kept
They found me alone in the alley
lost and afraid of real shadows
they understood I had no family
held me as I shed my deepest sorrow
What is lost I could never tally
but around me they all did rally
Who would do such a strange thing?
Who’d open themselves to me?
Who are they?
they must be saints all seeing
But as I turn to ask my question
there is just a quite silent tension
they had faded away without mention
maybe it was an undercover angel convention?
I was tied in emotional red tape
unsure what was to be my fate
They could not save me the real pain
but comforted me as they could
that horrible night in the rain
sheltering me with their good
I checked into rehab the next day
started to make a new life
stopped being easy prey
reflecting only haunted strife
Now I try not standing in my own way
and I heal just a little more each hard day