William Elliott Whitmore Sometimes Our Dreams Float Like Anchors
And the hammer swings high and comes down hardDrive
another nail into my coffin lid
And as the days go by if I can play my part
Well I'll feel no remorse for what I did
Your mother would cry if she only could
But those days are gone, those days are gone
And she always tried to see the good in everything that
you done
And sometimes our dreams they float like anchors in
hopeless waters oh way down here
Sometimes it seems that all that matters most are all the
things that you can't keep
Oh, the skin, Oh, the skin
That this old world has placed me in
I can't wait to shed, I can't wait to shed
Lord I'll be free when I'm dead
