Let Love Grow
In the darkest hours of insanity,
When the living-with-a-heart, loses control
Every action turns into a ruthless killing of the self
And, in the darkest hours, the soul, do they shout in pain?
To restore the peace again, where do they go then?
In a little corner of the mind where a little sanity still prevails
A little hope may be giving some rest to the bereaved soul.
That little hope, let it grow;
Let it flourish into a new beginning,
Let the darkest hour vanish slow,
Let the music of the heart flow, let it flow!
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