we go.
we choose.
no fate..no man.
we make it with our bare hands.
we choose our blessings and our scars.
we come to find out who we are.

the tree don't curse the sidewalk for covering up her roots,
and the sidewalk don;t talk bad about her when those roots come bysting through.
abstract cracks at the garden gate, puzzling through beneath her shade.
beneath her shade.

we go. we come. we choose.
we choose our blessings and our scars--
we come to find out who we are.
who we are.