Laci LeBlanc

Music, my passion, my love, my fear.
Music, that is defined by what is pleasing to the ear.

My passion, that is defined by my hunger for more,
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How do I respond?
How do I react to those who are fond?
I have affections that I wish to return,
Oh how do I learn, how do I learn?
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May all be forgiven, repented and true,
Remember only love and start over new?
For how gracious is the human heart,
To forgive any evil, that one may do?
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In his pockets, his hands he thrusts,
They reach out to no one, nothing he trusts.
A skeptic, cynical, and unforgiving,
'Tis his life, his way of living.
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Christmas is a joyous time as we all know,
The spirit is infectious, our hearts begin to glow.
Unfortunately, there is more to see,
Christmas isn't always what it's meant to be.
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You clasp your pillow, and attempt to rest, your restless head.
Fraudulent figures sweep the darkness,
They cackle and scream, the silence carries a weight of lead.
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You are always concerned, you always care,
When I am troubled, I know you'll be there.
I can rely on you, I am always sure.
You are more than a mother, much, much more.
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