Voices, voices, voices inside my head. Choices they present until the day that I’m dead.
Voices, they lift me up, voices they bring me down. Voices make noises that definitely do resound.
Listen here or listen there, these are the burdens that I bare.
A cup half empty, a cup half full, within my head a constant pull.
The voices bring choices that travel round and round until finally they manifest in me as actions that abound.
Voices, voices, the choices that you bring. Ultimately the choice is mine to do the right thing.
By Ray Sanders
