The Man Who Gave Me a Choice
On a summer night, where the wind blows,
On a cold dusty road, I met a man who said,
He could help me with my troubles, and sorrows.
He said his name was a thousand rains, of problems.
He lives where we go, to find our souls.
I asked him, sir how can you help me?
And he said just one thing,
Hand me all of your memories, and I will paint them with gold.
I asked him the price, and he told me my life.
Gladly did I hand him the key to my destiny,
What have I to lose?
He laughed and took away my chance, and told me I had already chose.
As for me, I am now the rose, on which the thorns grow.
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