The Glorious Arches Of St. Louis

I have felt the many whispers of your caustic fate;
Crying, laughing at the nagging coincidental way.

I wish I would hold a notion true
I wish I could push emotion through
I felt my hand that picked the fruit impure
Taste now so bland, searching for a cure.

I have known this for so long
And now I know; now I'm longing
For the newborn's breath
Within my death.

God, give me my strength that I could never find.